The Tinman Passes
by Francis Eugene
Summary: Buffy isn't the only one who can return from the dead. Last chapter posted!
1. Default Chapter

Summary: Buffy isn't the only one who can return from the dead.

Spoilers: Up to BtVS:Choosen, AtS:NFA

Rating: PG-13 (L)

Disclaimers: I own nothing. ME, MGM and all other copyright holders own the rights to their respective works and characters.

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The Tinman Passes 

The hour was getting on and the weather continued to worsen, the battleship-gray clouds stretching from horizon to horizon. There was still plenty of cold shadowless light to see by, but that wouldn't last for long, and yet the dark-haired man showed no sign ofheading for the parking lot. He continued to wander around the huge stones, fascinated by their alignments and by how the whole structure was constructed to begin with. He knew how he'd do it using modern methods, with mobile cranes and other heavy equipment, but to do it with just ropes and rollers, and maybe A-frames too? Just amazing, he thought to himself, absolutely amazing.

There were no other tourists at the site, since he'd had Giles arrange a private after-hours visit through his contact with the English Heritage Society. However, if any tourists had been around they would have noted a male of above average height, lean but well-built, and immediately marked him as an American by some indefinable characteristic of his attire or how he carried himself.

A pair of jeans were visible below the bottom of a long beige trench coat, his only concession to the weather, extending down to cover the tops of a beat-up pair of boots of the type common around construction sites. The coat was open, flapping in the gusts, and revealed a dark blue sweatshirt emblazoned with a bear-claw logo in gold over the letters 'UCS' on the left breast.

His movements were very deliberate, almost cat-like in their grace and precision, and not at all those of a gawky young man. A close look revealed the face of someone who been to hell and back and was very tired from the trip. The most striking characteristic was a black eye-patch over the left eye, and even closer examination would reveal a nasty looking scar extending from below the right eye back toward his ear. Another smaller scar on the back of his neck was not quite hidden by long hair tied back in a loose pony-tail.

All these things the imaginary tourist would note and realize that he was in fact a rather frightening and dangerous looking character, like a biker-gang member. Especially if one got a good stare from his remaining eye, showing an empty hardness not expected from someone his age. The man had seen and done things that few have ever experienced except maybe in their worst nightmares.

The gusts continued to pick up while the temperature dropped even further. Rain started to fall, softly at first, then with increasing intensity, in big fat drops that made a blatting sound as they hit the ground. He let the rain get his hair wet, rivulets of water alternately streaming down his neck or face. Yet the man did not react at all and actually seemed to revel in the cold bleakness, as if it provided needed balance to his own inner emptiness.

Soon the sky was lit with flashes that arced from cloud to cloud or from cloud to ground. The growing darkness filled with the rolling rumble of thunder from far away, approaching fast. Strangely enough this was the one thing that caused a visible reaction. Despite his time in Africa and elsewhere thunderstorms were something that still really bothered him. Earthquakes were nothing; he'd grown up with them and knew how to deal. But thunderstorms, with their blasting pyrotechnics, he hadn't quite gotten used to. Maybe it was the way he could feel the vibrations deep in his gut. He didn't know.  
He just knew he didn't like them. He forcibly shrugged off his anxiety and decided to circle around toward the Heel Stone to get one last look around.

Upon arriving he looked back across the stone, thinking about the purpose of the place. It was far, far more than an observatory. He knew that. But at all started with the stars. He looked up at the lumpy gray sky, imagining the stars that would have started to appear soon, that now wouldn't this night. It was appropriate, he thought,  
that they were obscured, that he wouldn't see them now. In particular the North Star-the 'guide star' of ancient mariners.

Where was his own guide? He turned and looked roughly in the direction of North, searching for what he knew he wouldn't find.

He knew he should count himself lucky. He had his semi-friends, acquaintances he could talk to and do things with, even down a pint with. He did all the things he was supposed to do, the things that were expected of him. Making with the lame humor, or fixing what got broken, or just putting on a good face and being strong for those around him. He had other things that kept him busy when people weren't around. Outwardly, he appeared to be fine, not much different than the boy he was just a few years ago.

The good fight continued and though he still felt good about participating, the changes it forced were getting to him. Many of his best friends, his real family, were scattered to the corners of the Earth and he missed them. Phone calls and email helped and were better than nothing at all, but it wasn't the same as being with them, even if only to share a companionable silence.

And so much of his family had been lost. Far too much. He ached with their absence. Two in particular he felt most deeply. And it finally drained him until he was empty. Yeah, the good fight continued, but his heart just wasn't in it anymore.

He used to picture himself as the Cowardly Lion, scared of what he had to do, but doing it anyway because he always had the 'noive'. But now he knew different. I am the Tinman, he mused, thump my chest and all you'll hear is an echo, Jack Haley's words replaying in his mind:

"Well, you're perfect now."

"Perfect? Oh - bang on my chest if you think I'm perfect. Go ahead - bang on it!"

"Beautiful! What an echo!"

"It's empty. The tinsmith forgot to give me a heart."

"No heart?"

"No heart."

Blindly staring at the leaden sky he suddenly got angry at his own selfish moroseness. Both his girls would have kicked his ass if they knew the cant of his thoughts. He had it good, he really did, and he understood that in an abstract way. He had seen what true hopelessness was-he'd seen enough of it in Africa and elsewhere-and while he was still alive there was still some quantum of hope left. So what if he felt empty? You go on and do the job anyway.

He just hoped the day would come when he wouldn't feel this way anymore.

He continued looking at the sky for several more moments when he began to feel the hair rise on the back of his neck. A quiet sizzling sound seemed to come from everywhere at once and the fresh smell of ozone permeated the air, tickling his nose. Had he had more experience with thunderstorms he would have known to dive flat to the ground or do anything as long as he wasn't the tallest object around.

As it was he was stunned into incoherence when the gray dusky evening shattered in a blast of blue-white light, reaching from the clouds to a spot several yards away just on the other side of the stone. Almost simultaneously he heard a moderately loud snap followed by a moment of unearthly deadly silence. Then a concussion of sound and heat literally threw him to the ground, knocking the breath from him.

He lay there for seemingly endless moments breathing shallowly, slowly gathering his wits together again. He eventually made it back to his feet but his ears continued to ring from the report and he saw orange after-images every time he blinked. He'd never been that close to a strike before and thanked the stars he was still basically okay, albeit a little wetter where the coat hadn't protected him from the soggy ground-and a whole lot shakier.

He'd seen enough.

He started to ineffectually brush himself off when he thought he heard a moaning sound. It cut off and didn't come back so he shrugged, passing it off as the wind coming up from the valley or the after-affects of his ringing ears. He started to circle around the large stone and head toward the parking lot. He'd just gotten past the stone when he heard the noise again, stopping him short. This time he knew it wasn't the wind, but rather something nearby. Or possibly someone.

Digging out the always-present stake from an inside coat pocket and a cross out of another, he carefully stepped toward the sound, which was coming from very near the stone. Despite the still fairly bright sky it was hard to make out anything in the welling darkness of the ground around the stone. Another flash illuminated the ground all around for a fraction of a second, long enough for him to see the body of a woman lying on her side, facing away from him. She stirred a bit and must have been the source of the sound. He was certain he should have seen her when he had first walked out here some minutes ago, when it was brighter.

Where had she come from? What had happened to her?

Quickly approaching her he put the stake back in his pocket, though still within easy reach, and kept the cross in hand. Getting closer he noticed the woman had long dark hair rapidly being matted down in the rain, and a superb figure revealed by the totally incongruous hospital gown she appeared to be wearing. Who would be stupid enough to come out here dressed like that? he thought. Had she actually been hit by the strike? He figured this would have been about the spot.

He shrugged aside further unnecessary thoughts to concentrate on what was important. He peeled off his coat and got ready to drape it over her.

"Hey lady, are you OK?"

Kneeling down, ignoring the chilling wet suddenly soaking his knee, he leaned over to gently touch her shoulder. Just before he reaches her she rolled over enough to face him, the long wet strands of hair falling to obscure her face.

The woman made a few more groans as she stood herself up on unsteady legs. "Huh, what happened?" she rasped, looking around.

Almost immediately she saw a menacing male figure in front of her, with some kind of object in his hand. Despite the fact he's one of the most dangerous looking people she's ever seen, the concern written plainly on his face softens his features enough that she's not actually scared of him. In fact he's rather good-looking in a bad-ass Hell's Angel wannabe sort of way. She smiles gratefully when he reaches out to drape the long overcoat over her shoulders. However, when she tugs back the hair from her face to get a better look his next reaction is totally unexpected.

Eyes widening in shock in sudden recognition he spasms uncontrollably,  
stumbling back a pace or two, loudly exclaiming.

"HOLY SHIT!"

Fear and confusion fight for control of his expression. At first he can't form any coherent thoughts much less words. It couldn't be! Merciful Zeus, there was NO WAY it could be! She's dead!

He rubbed his eye furiously, wiping away the water streaming down his face, hoping it was just an illusion. Then he shook his head violently. But he continued to see her.

NO! No no no no!

A thousand times, NO! It couldn't be!

Right! He'd heard that she died last year, never recovering from the coma.

But...

"C-C-Cordy?" he whispered in disbelief.

But it was her! Something seriously fucked-up is going on here. But what? How could it be her? Was it even really her? Confused thoughts clashed in his mind. He stumbled backward to a kneeling position on the ground and was looking up at her now, mostly in dark profile against the sky. He started to feel light-headed and put his hand down to steady himself. He had to figure out something before he went crazy!

The First, that's it! This must be a manifestation of The First. He scrambled back to his feet and reached forward to poke her in the side as a way to test this, only to be rewarded with a hard slap on the hand.

"Hey! What're you doing, you pervert?" she exclaimed, continuing to slap at his hand, before he pulled it back.

"You're The First!" he shouted, though now he realized that's obviously not the case, which he also now realizes he should have known when he was able to put the coat on her.

"I'll be the first to knock you on the head if you try that again" And remembering this stranger had just a moment ago called her by the knick-name her long-ago ex-boyfriend had bestowed upon her, she demanded, "And just how do you know my name, buster?"

The situation was just too surreal for her. Sure, she'd dealt with bizarro worlds before, and almost everything else the other side of unbelievable. But she was dead...

Right?

Those bastard PTBs had told her she was dead when she was with Angel that last time, and that her time was up.

But this did NOT look like the Pearly Gates!...

And that did NOT look like St. Peter!...

And she was cold and wet and NOT at all feeling angelic!

So where was she and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!

But even with almost mind-numbing confusion and fear trying to overcome her, there was no way she would would meekly give in! She didn't know what the fuck was happening, or who this menacing looking not-St. Peter guy attacking her was, but she did know she was Cordelia Chase (Ha! not amnesia-girl this time! she cheered inwardly), and damned if she'd let someone else take control. She'd had a bellyful of someone else being in control of her. Not this time, bubba! she swore to herself as she started to advance on the man.

A vampire! he thought next. That must be it! He took the cross that he was still holding and whipped it in front of her, waving it before her face. He got nothing back except a really pissed-off scowl from the woman in front of him, followed by a painful kick to the shin.

Wincing almost imperceptibly he shrugged off the pain. The possibility of this impossible illusion being possible was beginning to reach him. He still wasn't quite willing to give in to it. There had to be something else he could try to see if this really was who she appeared to be.

In a moment of inspiration he thought of something. Forcing himself to a calmness he felt not at all, he stood straighter and in the most nonchalant tone he could muster, said "Y-y-you look...great, Cordy, y'know, for a dead person and all, but what's this funny thing here with the hair?" reaching over to pick at an imaginary nothing.

The change in her demeanor was startling only to someone who had never known her. "AAaa!" She quickly reached up to feel around her hair, trying to find out what was wrong, causing the coat to slip from her shoulders and drop to the ground. "My hair? What's wrong? Where's a mirror?" frantically looking about for anything that might let her know what she looked like.

And at that he let go an explosion of laughter, the built-up tension washing away with every frantic gesture to fix her hair.

"Yep, the one and only Queen C, alright!"

Then hesitating only briefly, a huge smile breaking across his face, he took a long stride forward and gathered her up, embracing her in a bear-hug of intense heartfelt joy.

She bawled incoherently and tried to jump away from the onrush of danger-man, confused now not only by her presence in this place and the things this guy had just done to her, but also the big quirky and gentle smile that plastered her assailant's face. This danger-guy apparently knew her. And thankfully, at least for the moment, wasn't trying to hurt her.

She struggled to extricate herself from his grip, but he was not having any. He only hugged her tighter and she soon became cognizant that not all the drops landing on her shoulder were from the rain. She could barely discern his muffled sobs, "You're alive, you're alive" endlessly repeating in her ear.

There was something almost familiar about him but she couldn't think of what. He certainly seemed to know her, and pretty well at that. Was she amnesia-girl after all? What was it that seemed so familiar? Some quality in the timbre of his laugh, or the smile she'd seen just before being engulfed? Was that it?

But she was sure she'd never known anyone that looked like this, not with that scarred face, or the long hair, and most certainly not that eye-patch. Her initial panicked worries about being amnesia-girl dissipated, for she could recall everything as she cast her mind back. From that last hellish year as a victim of Jasmine's plans, to her earlier years with Angel Investigations, to growing up in Sunnydale before that.

Everything. Everything was there. She was certain of that.

Everything but this man who, her mind going off on an wierd tangent, looked vaguely like the no-name stranger in those spaghetti-westerns Xander used to watch. Perhaps the dark hair? The brown eyes-no, checking herself. Just eye. Singular. One rather beautiful, deep brown eye.

Brown?

Xander?

Comprehension slowly swept over her like sun breaking the dawn. Oh no,  
it couldn't be! But...

Tentatively, tremulously, "Xander? Is that you?"

Finally releasing her from the hug, but taking one of her hands in both of his, he backed a step and just nodded his head, his eye glistening both from the tears and a joy that only minutes ago he hadn't expected to ever feel again. He hadn't really smiled this way in such a long long time and now he just couldn't help himself from grinning like a foolish clown.

Seeing that slightly crooked, gentle smile splayed across the scarred unshaven face she was able to answer her own question, "Ohmygod! Xander! It IS you!"

Looking carefully she could make out the familiar features, the large ears, the way his lips curled, the set of his shoulders when he was a little embarrassed or feeling awkward-which frankly could pretty much be most of the time. And the eye, of course.

"Yeah, it's me. A few extra miles, but it's me," he snuffled, trying to wipe the tears from his face.

A shiver coursed through her as complete recognition dawned on her. Her shivering didn't stop as a cold gust blew across them. Quickly he reached down to gather the overcoat that had fallen to the ground and swept it over her, tugging it down around her shoulders. Although fairly wet and dirty in some places it was far better than the gown she was wearing. She immediately felt better, and grateful.

But the uncomfortable confusion remained as strongly as ever. What was he doing here? What was SHE doing here? WHERE was here? And almost too scared to ask herself...WHEN was here?

She had died, she was sure of it. The PTBs had told her so, and she also had an inner certainty of that fact, a certainty she couldn't explain.

"Damn! Did those lawyers pull a 'Darla' on me? I am gonna kick their asses!" she muttered to herself.

Xander watched her carefully as she looked away, shaking her head slightly as she tried to puzzle out what was going on. He thought he heard her mutter Darla's name, but he wasn't sure.

What do you say? What do you do, when someone you thought dead now suddenly appears like, literally, a bolt from the blue? It's not like he had a manual for this sort of thing! The last time he'd had to deal with anything remotely like this was when they'd ripped Buffy out of hea-

Oh, shit!

With urgency and despair he cried out, "Were you in heaven? Oh my God,  
I'm so sorry, I'm so sor-"

His voice broke through her reverie and she looks back up at him. "What? No! So stop with the whining," she snapped at the interruption of her thoughts.

He blinked in reaction to her tone. She looked around herself at the ground, gesturing with her arms as she tried to piece together what had just happened, Xander watching her in mild consternation, now unsure of what to expect next from her.

She started to mutter. "I was leaving Angel's office. But I was dead" An hysterical edge creeping into voice as she focused back on Xander, eyes getting wider, "I know I was dead!"

She didn't understand why, but looking at Xander's face again had a soothing effect on her. She looked away and continued slowly and more calmly, "Then the next thing I know I'm lying on the ground getting soaked. It can't be, but..." peering around, seeing the large stones behind Xander, the shadow of the forested rolling hills in the distance, "...is this heaven?" she asked incredulously. "'Cause if it is...damn! It's a real fixer-upper!"

And in one of her typical thought-jumps, tilting her head in innocent curiosity, "Are you dead, too?" she suddenly asks.

The initial shock having finally worn off he looks around and, trying to match her now apparent outward calmness, replies, "No, this isn't heaven, and it's not Iowa either. Nor any other mid-western state. What are you doing here, Cordy? What's going on?"

Without even consciously thinking about it, and in spite of the total inappropriateness, they both fell into the virtually ingrained rhythm of their habit of trying to one-up each other, neither to back down.

"I don't know, what are YOU doing here?" Which seemed like a good question to her.

"Sightseeing. Back to you, Jane." he replied levelly.

This was not going like it should, though he ruefully admitted to himself he wasn't really sure how these things were supposed to go. Maybe there had been something for dealing with these ex-paramour-just-returned-from-the-dead situations and he'd missed the memo? He made a mental note to ask Andrew or Giles about it.

If he was going to be flip about it then she could play that game as well!

"I'm certainly not here for the company!"

She was confused, and suddenly angry about being in that position, and Xander was the nearest target, unfair as that may be. "And you know what! Whatever it is, I'll bet it's all your fault!" jabbing him sharply in the chest with her finger.

"Hey, I was minding my own business, just walking around!" Xander replied defensively. "You were the farthest thing from my mind," he lied, "So YOU explain YOUR Houdini entrance," heat rising in his face.

"I don't have to explain anything to a loser who," disdainfully sweeping her eyes across his sodden clothing, "looks like a Salvation Army reject pile."

"Ri-i-i-ght," he sneered. "As opposed to the very fashionable and trendy hospital-wear you've got on!" waving his hand at her skimpy attire.

"Probably part of a pathetic attempt to play 'Doctor', loser!"

He bobbed his head once in insincere acknowledgment and gave a non-committal grunt. She's somehow back from the dead, and instead of being grateful, or whatever, instead we're fighting like little kids! Just plain fucking insane! His joy at seeing her was now overlayed by intense irritation. He knew it was totally irrational. He knew that he should be more sympathetic, more understanding of her situation.

He also couldn't help himself, for he was dealing with a fundemental law of the universe.

This one woman, out of all the billions on the planet, could push his buttons like no other. No one had ever been able to bug him like she could. And it looked like that hadn't changed one goddamn bit in all the intervening years! If anything could erase lingering doubts as to her true identity then this was it. This was without-a-doubt-accept-no-substitutes the Cordelia Chase he had once hated, feared, fought with, fought alongside, loved, and mourned as deeply as anyone.

Now everything was turned on it's head, upside down, bass-akwards and flipped nine ways from Sunday. He hasn't seen or talked to her in at least five years, she pops out of the sky, and what do they do? They start fighting! Shouldn't they be hugging, or cheering, or singing for joy...or...or... ANYTHING else?

Arrggh!

Conflicting emotions waged war within, one to stay and hold onto her for dear life, the other to tear into her with nasty gusto. He just couldn't get over how surreal the situation was. It just shouldn't be playing out this way.

Double-plus Arrggh!

"You haven't changed one bit, oh Queen C. It's sure great to see you again, let's do lunch sometime."

He'd gotten used to most things not working the way he wanted. And when it's going this badly it's time for the tough to get going. And knowing it was the wrong thing to do he turned on his heel and started walking away, fervently hoping she wouldn't call his bluff.

At first she was too dumbfounded by his actions to say anything. "WHAT!" she shrieked in genuine disbelief. "You're just going to walk off and leave a girl here in this..." looking around one more time at the wet emptiness all around her, "this...place?"

Stopping and looking over his shoulder, he spat back, "Not just ANY girl, Cordy!"

"Oh, yeah...I'm 'special', I got that." snarling back. How does this always happen to her? And always with this lame-ass tweako! Even now she can still sense that undercurrent of strong attraction for him she once had, a long-forgotten delicious joy and serenity when he's near.

And then BAM! we're ripping each other to pieces. Out of all the billions of men in the world no one could push her buttons like this one-bar none. This wasn't his fault, she knows that. But she she also knows this wasn't her fault. So why is he doing this? Why is SHE doing this!

Arrggh!

A fond memory suddenly sweeps through Xander at that 'special' moment and his hard expression softens, the irrational anger toward her vanishing like a vampire being dusted.

Another moment passes, and just like that everything WAS the way it should be.

Now grinning at her with genuine amusement he says in earnest sincerity, "That's right, you are." He holds out his arm in invitation.

Seeing him turn back toward her with an ear-to-ear grin upon his visage rather than the angry one she expected to see, she can't help but smile in return. She pushes aside the already fading remnants of her anger and hurries to catch up with him.

"And don't you forget it!"

"Never have. Never will." still smiling broadly. "Come on, let's get out of here."

As she comes up to him he gently puts his hand on her elbow and guides her to face the direction he originally headed, beginning a slow walk. "Let's first get you out of here and go someplace dry. And see if we can find something better for you to wear." He drops his hand when he's sure she's now going along with him.

Looking around one more time, still confused, "Where is here?" she asks,

"Stonehenge...Ahh, that is, we're in Wiltshire. England."

"ENGLAND?" she yelps, stopping in her tracks, forcing Xander to stop and turn as well.

"Uh huh."

"You're kidding! Tell me you're kidding!" What was she doing in England!

"I'm kidding."

"Oh, thank God!"

"Except I'm not. This really is England."

"Damn," spoken low and reverant.

One last look around, sighing in resignation, for what could she really do about it. "Wow." She just shakes her head and accepts the situation in that way she had for dealing with stuff of the too weird type. "Looks like a pile of rocks."

"It's a bit more than that but that'll work for now. We can try and figure this out as we go," as he started walking again.

"Where're we going?" her long legs easily keeping pace with his strides.

"I'm parked over there," waving vaguely in the direction they were facing. They both lapsed into silence, each as bewildered as the other. What was he supposed to do? He didn't know, and right now he didn't care all that much. Cordelia was walking next to him and appeared to be genuine and alive, and that's all he needed to know. The rest he would worry about later and just let things go where they would.

They walked along that way for a short while, though he soon noticed she was casting furtive glances at him. He'd seen that look before whenever he walked in crowds of strangers, and he wasn't totally surprised when she finally spoke up.

"Jesus, it looks like you've been through a war."

"Possibly," he answered vaguely.

"But the Snake Plisken look...not working for you." Although it really kinda had, not that there was anyway she would admit that to Xander, she thought with an inward smile.

Chuckling in response, "I first tried for the Bloefeld look. Y'know, shaving my head, and carrying a cat around. But the cat hated me, and I hated it, and I kept getting the worst sunburns. So I decided to try something different. If this doesn't work I'll go for the Captain Hook look next, but without the actual hook part."

Laughing at his well remembered silly and irreverent humor, "Maybe you should lose the eye-patch, it really is a bit too cartoonish." She reached up to flip it off his face.

He stopped and dodged back easily while also warding off her outstretched arm. An unreadable expression crossed his face; not menacing, but not friendly either. He then looked away from her, not saying anything for several moments, visibly pressing his lips together tightly in tension.

She didn't understand his reaction at first. And then it clicked into place. "Oh my God! Xander, it's for real?" exclaiming loudly, not wanting to believe.

He turned to face Cordelia, first looking up over her head then back down, gazing intently into her own beautiful eyes. He slowly nodded his head and said, after a deep breath, "It's for real," finally looking away.

"Oh, Xander, I'm so sorry," with genuine concern and sympathy. This time she slowly raised her hand to his face, caressing the skin around the patch. He was a rock. he never got damaged, or at least not permanently. He had always bounced back as good as new. That's just the way the world worked. But this was real damage, permanent and forever, and it was upsetting her more than she would have expected.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Just a bad day at the office" Then he resumed walking, making her step quickly to catch up again.

"Xander!" she scolded him. Whatever it was, it was NOT just 'a bad day'!

"Really, it's OK, I'm used to it by now so there's nothing to be concerned about."

Much softer, "What happened?"

He was quiet for a moment and she thought he wouldn't answer.

"From what I gather, I think you were already in a coma when it happened. And it occurred in a fight with this hopped up evangilist bastard of evil working for The First. Guess he was a little jealous of my devilishly handsome self and just couldn't take the competition." To which he received an amused snort from her.

"Hurt?"

"Some."

They finished the rest of their walk in silence, making it to the nearby parking lot where, aside from a few other cars that belonged to the staff, his was the only vehicle in sight. Approaching the lot he headed for the lone vehicle on the far side.

Breaking the quiet, she said, "You have got to be kidding me! Is that what I think it is?"

With an amused smirk, "I guess it all depends on what you think it is, now doesn't it?" he said.

"OK, smart-ass," rolling her eyes, "I think it's a beat-up American pickup truck. So perfect for you."

"Then you'd be right," he replied.

"If this really is England like you say, then why on Earth would you drive one of those around here?" pointing at the dented and dirty Ford truck.

"Several reasons," raising his hand to tick of the reasons on his fingers. "One, I like American. 'Buy American!' I always say. I also like the left-hand drive. Y'see, it's not the depth-perception that's a real problem, but the field of vision. It works better for me being on the left side of he car. And, on a more practical matter, it comes in handy when I have to fix stuff around the Council house."

She looked at him skeptically, not really sure if he could be believed or not.

"The only real problem is the price of gas-err-petrol. It's freakin' insane! I've got a twenty-six gallon tank, which around here translates to way over 100 dollars to fill!"

They arrived at the passenger side of the truck and he opened the door for her, saying "hop in." After she climbed in he walked around to the bed of the truck and went to the large toolbox mounted behind the cab. After rummaging around for a moment or two he pulled out a couple of UCS sweatshirts, though a bit worn in places, a pair of sweat pants in slightly better condition, and a couple of heavy blankets, and then jumped down back on the passenger side.

"Here, put these on. I know it's not your style, but it's gotta be better than a soggy hospital gown. Shout out when you're decent again."

She took the pile without a word and he again walked to the back of the truck to wait. He forced himself to turn his back on the cab, and thought about DeWalt vs. Bosch power tools, or anything to keep him from thinking too much about a nude Cordelia in his car.

When she called out he went around and got in on the driver's side. He shrugged out of his own thoroughly soaked sweatshirt and took the extra one from her. She couldn't help but notice the raw maleness of him while he sat there in a damp T-shirt, lean muscles flexing as he re-arranged the dry sweatshirt before finally sweeping it over his head. He'd lost weight since high-school, she saw. He wasn't actually thin but more a sort of lean, like a panther, with whipcord muscles. She couldn't help a quiet but sharp intake of breath, noting how he now compared favorably with that time when he joined the swim team.

She'd also noticed a large number of scars on his arms and hands, mostly on his right side, some almost as livid as the one on his face. She forbore to ask about them for the time being because she didn't think she could stand to hear anymore about how fragile he really was.

"How do just happen to have all this stuff?" she queries as she plays with the hem on the sweatshirt. It's way too big for her but it's dry and it's warm. A thought makes itself known before she can quash it, that it also smells very slightly of him.

"Earthquake kit."

"In England? I didn't think they had those here."

"Actually I don't think they do-or at least not that I'm aware of. It's just habit for me."

He leaned forward to key the ignition. The CD player clicked on as he started up the truck, picking up the end of a Jimmy Buffet tune. She cast a 'what-the-hell-is-that' look at him.

"I like Buffet," he said defensively, "And, y'know, with the whole parrot thing."

"Hah?"

"Eye-patch," in a didactic tone, pointing at the patch, then at a spot above his shoulder. "Parrot. I once told Willow all I would need is a parrot and then I'd be all set for Halloween. On my next birthday she got me a Jimmy Buffet album."

Shaking her head slowly, "Still not getting it."

"Jimmy Buffet fans are 'Parrot-heads'."

"Ah, Xander-Logic," nodding her head knowingly, "I should have known."

He winked slyly at her and reached to put the truck in gear. However, before doing so he paused and sat back, looking back at her questioningly. "So now what? I was going to head back home. Can I take you anywhere, or drop you off someplace?" He really wanted her to stay with him, but it had been so many years since they had spoken and not exactly on the best of terms even then, and this last hour was just too strange to work out. Even though he'd said they would figure it out together he wasn't really certain how she felt, whether she would want to continue being with him or not.

"Oh, yeah sure, could you just drop me off at Buckingham Palace, please. The Queen is expecting me for tea at four," biting sarcasm now lacing her voice. "Come on, Xander, pretend not to be as dumb as you used to be! I just popped out of nowhere, expecting to maybe be in heaven or something. And instead I wind up here on the home field of the Empire the dreary never set on-with you of all people-so NOT what I was looking forward to." rolling her eyes heavenward. "So, no, I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or where to go. Or anything" Then patting around herself, "I don't have ID, money, makeup, or credit cards." The apparent anger vanished, replaced with a resignedness, "So you've just picked up a wayward hitchhiker, and as much as I REALLY hate saying this," she lied, "I'm going to need your help."

By now he fully appreciated and understood her frustration and this time took no offense at the harshness in her words. In truth he could only admire the way she was handling the situation. All things considered she was just being amazing, although deep down he knew he really shouldn't be surprised by that at all.

"Alright, let's start off with: are you hungry? We'll sort out the rest later. How's that work for you?"

"That works just fine," she said gratefully, putting a hand to her stomach, realizing she was absolutely starved.

"OK, we'll go find a pub in Salisbury. But first..." looking down at her bare muddy feet, blue with the cold, "maybe we should do something about that." He finally put the truck in gear and they headed off to town.

She flinched violently when they encountered the first oncoming car, thinking they needed to get back to the other side of the road. The car safely zoomed by her on the right. Turning her head to watch it go by she whispered, "We really are in England, aren't we?" shuddering as she watched it disappear around the bend. Somehow that simple encounter made it all too real.

"Yup," with a sympathetic smile.

Surprisingly she really wasn't in the mood to shop for clothes so they settled on a JJB sporting goods store in town, where they bought her a pair of socks and sneakers. She perversely decided to stay with the sweats Xander had given her before.

They soon found a pub near the center of town and, after ignoring the looks from the regular patrons, settled themselves in. They both ordered salads and beef stew, he with strong coffee and she with a red wine.

As the waited for the food to arrive he asked her about what she remembered before arriving, trying to get to the heart of the matter of how and why she was here.

She was silent for a few moments, gathering her thoughts before speaking. "It's hard to describe. I was leaving Angel's office-and let me tell you, him being CEO of Wolfram Hart is just plain wrong-and then...then..." her voice drifting away.

Had she been watching his face closely she would have seen a flicker of his eyelid at the mention of Wolfram Hart. There were things he would have to tell her, painful things, which he decided could wait.

She shook her head as if trying to rattle the pieces into place. "Then just nothing, or nothingness, or something like that. I mean, I was aware of myself, and I could think but there was nothing else. Not even blackness because I couldn't see. The next thing I felt was a coldness, but not like cold air, but coldness that began on the inside. Then a flash of light, an explosion that nearly deafened me..."

A small smile replaced the frown of concentration. "...and then I'm getting soaking wet while this Hell's Angel wannabe is trying to tickle me," scrunching her nose in that way she had that used to make his knees weak.

He'd listened to her story in fascination, mulling it over in his head after she stopped. He really didn't know what to say to that except "Wow!"

"Ever the one for overstatement, are you?" she said with a smile.

At point the food had arrived and they both dug in heartily, continuing the conversation between bites.

He moved the discussion to a more mundane and practical subject; the matter of what she wanted to do next. "Speaking of Deadboy, I expect you want to get back to LA, right? You could come back to Saxmundhan with me and we'll get you set up to fly back. Probably take a couple of days to crank out the documentation you'll need. We can give you some cash and a credit card to get you going, at least to start off with-"

"NO!" she exclaimed vehemently, "Just no! Right now...the last thing I want to do is go back to Los Angeles! Too many things got all fucked up there and I don't ever want to see that place again!"

A bit startled by the vehemence of her reaction he started over,  
"O-o-oKay, scratch LA. Someplace else then?"

Calmer now, she thought for a moment and then said, "I think I wouldn't mind seeing Sunnydale again, at least to check up on my parents, if they're still there."

This time she did notice the flicker on his face as he winced in memory of their former home town. This was one of the things he had wanted to avoid telling her.

"What?" she immediately demanded.

"Ah, Cor, that's...going to be a real problem."

"You said you would make sure I got anywhere I wanted."

"Yeah, sure. And that still stands, of course. But it has to be a place that exists." Answering her confusion and dismay, "You see, Sunnydale is now a hole in the ground."

She fell back into her chair aghast, unable to say anything. Xander watched her with sympathy and concern. "Wha-" was all she got out.

"What happened?" he softly asked. She mutely nodded her head.

"It was that fight with The First. It was going to open the Hellmouth again and all these super-vamps would come pouring out. So we put together an army of 'slayers in waiting' to fight 'em. And Spike had this necklace that made with the big bright light, killed everything in range. Callapsed the school into the hellmouth. Only it didn't stop there. The entire town fell in. We barely got away." He carefully left unsaid all the losses they'd had in that almost-Pyhrric victory.

She could tell there was more to it than that, much more, as she sensed deep anguished overtones in his voice. Obviously he'd gone through his own kind of hell during the time she was being body-jacked by Jasmine. She focused on something else he'd said.

"Spike! I'd heard he was some kind of big hero but nobody told me what he'd done. Or what happened to Sunnydale." She didn't understand why Angel wouldn't have told her about something as big as that, but she also had to admit she never bothered to ask either.

By unspoken mutual consent they decided to avoid the more difficult and painful topics of their recent pasts, though every now and then some reference would come up unavoidably and one or the other would go quiet or change the topic suddenly.

She started questioning him about his current situation, hoping that would be safer for both of them.

"So where exactly are we going again? You mentioned "home". That means you live here now?"

"I guess so, if there's anyplace I can call home. We've reconstituted the Council, after a fashion, in Saxmundham." At her 'huh' look he continued, "It's a small town northeast of London, near the coast. About a 4 hour drive from here. I've been staying at a flat in town ever since I got back from Africa."

"Africa!" She was starting to get a headache from the never-ending conversational whiplash.

"Long story. Another time," with finality, dodging again an uncomfortable topic. Now wasn't the time to go into the reasons he'd run away to Africa for over a year.

"OK, we'll save Africa for later. So you're living in England now. Can't say I'd ever have imagined that."

He chuckled along with her. "It's definitely not California. You can't find decent fajitas anywhere. And don't EVER ask for iced tea! But there's nice things too. The beer is great and the people are some of the nicest I've ever known. There's a real sense of history here, SoCal always felt so...so...temporary. Like if you close your eyes for 2 blinks it'll all be different. Here you can count on things. There's buildings, castles, that have been standing for a thousand years. I'm not saying I want to stay here permanently; I will go back to the States someday. But for now I like it here."

Something he'd just said a moment before caught up with her. "Wait a minute! The Council? You mean you work for the Watcher's Council now?"

"Err, yes-s-s."

"The same guys that put Buffy through that test? that fired Wesley? that tried to kill Faith? That Council?" Who was he now that he'd work for that bunch of bastards?

"No, NOT the same. Those guys got killed off in the same fight with The First. We've rebuilt it now, but along different lines. So everything is cool."

"I'm sure," somewhat sarcastically, not sure whether to believe him or not. "What do you do for them?"

With a humorous glint in his eye, "Y'know, same-old same-old, still the Zeppo. But I've been promoted! Now that we're in England not only do I fetch donuts but I also get...The Scones!" he said dramatically. "And if I'm real good they'll let me fetch the marmalade too." he finished proudly.

Smacking him in annoyance, "Stop that, Xander! You're not a Zeppo. I knew it even then."

"Then why say it?" suddenly serious.

Sighing in exasperation, "Do you really need an explanation? Would you like a pwitty widdle picture, too?"

Looking away, "No. No, I guess not," remorse and sadness in his voice.

She went on anyway. "I was hurt and angry. Maybe I should've been able to get over it, or past it, or forgiven you, or whatever. But I'd never been hurt like that-and I don't mean the rebar in the gut. Of course I was going to lash out even if it was wrong. But I know you're not a Zeppo, so just stop with the self-deprecation already. It gets annoying really fast."

"Aye, aye, mon capitain!" snapping off a lazy salute, matched with a lazy smirk.

"Just so long as you know your place, which is beneath me...er, I mean, that is-" her face turning red.

Raising his eyebrow quizzically, "Under you, huh? I think I could get used to that."

"Pervert!"

"Till my dying day."

They finished the meal, still trying to stay away from the difficult subjects, exchanging good-natured banter and insults. Bonds were being rebuilt that, in a strange way, deeper more serious conversation or more physical intimacy could never have accomplished.

Finally, with the bill paid and a last gulp of 'leaded' coffee for him, they returned to the truck. Now dry and stomach pleasantly full and the cab's air warmed up she began feeling very drowsy. She watched through half-lidded eyes as Xander deftly maneuvered the large vehicle through the town's streets and toward the A303 back to home, wherever that was.

The events of this last "day" for her had been exhausting. She was physically tired, but more than that she was mentally and emotionally exhausted, completely spent. Waking up in a hospital room, with her real body still comatose in bed. Then off with Angel to Wolfram Hart. A big fight and a final goodbye.

But not so final it would seem. Leaving Angel to get the phone and walking through the door into...England! And Xander. Somehow, after more turns and twists than a rat's maze she was inside the dry, heated cab of an American pick-up truck, driving down the A303 in England of all places, with Xander. There had to be more to it than mere coincidence but she was too tired to deal with it now. For the moment she was glad she didn't have to deal with it on her own.

Heavy eyelids drooping she tucked the blankets around her, rolling up a loose corner as a pillow against the passenger window. Taking one last long look at Xander she put her head down and immediately fell asleep.

He leaned his head on his fist, left elbow on the window frame as he drove east, tapping the steering wheel in rhythm to the wipers. What would McKenna have called this type of rain he thought idly, as big drops broke on the windshield. Yeah, number 17 for sure. Or maybe 56 verging on a bit of 8.

Glancing over to the right he noticed Cordelia had finally fallen asleep, propped up against the passenger door. In his too-big and unfashionable sweats, still-damp hair plastered down in wild curls, no makeup on, she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

He smiled at that thought until the CD player, which had been softly playing the whole time, cycled back to the song when they first got in at Stonehenge. His frown deepened as he listened to the final chorus, whispering along with the last line, "But I know...it's my own damn fault."

He'd hurt this woman terribly through his own thoughtless and selfish stupidity. Yes, he'd hurt Anya too, but it was different somehow. With Anya he wasn't being thoughtless (though perhaps still stupid. It was a reasoned choice from among terrible alternatives. He would second guess his reasons and thinking from now till the end of time,  
having lost the happiness and joy of that last year with her. But he honestly believed he'd done the best he could with the information he had at the time, to hurt her as little as possible.

With Cordelia, however, he'd been just plain stupid. Stupid, careless, selfish, all of it. He'd loved her. And hurt for no good reason he could fathom at all, destroying the best thing that had ever happened to him to that time, not fully appreciating what he'd lost until too late.

A not small bit of him had continued to love her even while he was with Anya. And now she was back somehow, in some way he couldn't begin to explain or understand. He didn't fool himself into thinking the earlier camaraderie over dinner would have much of an influence on any kind of continued relationship with her. She very likely would walk out of his life again as soon as she was back on her feet, that she would want nothing more to do with him. The thought of her leaving again was something he just couldn't bear to dwell on right now.

An unseen pothole in the road suddenly caused the truck to jolt and she grunted and half-awoke. Blinking a couple of times she blearily peered around the cab. She unbuckled herself and, really more asleep than awake, slid across the bench seat and leaned against Xander's shoulder, murmuring incoherently. A small, almost childlike smile graced her face as she settled in against his comforting bulk and promptly feel asleep again.

He glanced down in surprise when he first felt her slide in next to him, the thrill of her touch lighting up his senses like a fireworks display. Looking down at the beautiful soft features of the girl laying her head on his shoulder, memories of happier times came unbidden to his mind. Her eyes that could glint with obsidian hardness when angry, or gently sparkle like sun on morning dew when happy. He remembered the full generous mouth that smiled to rival the sun. The small nose that melted the heart and weakened the knees when she crinkled it in response to one of his lame jokes. He remembered her fiery,  
uncompromising nature that made her such a delightful pain to be with sometimes. And most of all he remembered the inner core of sweet strength he was privledged to experience, even if only briefly.

The blankets had fallen away when she moved so he reached his arm around her and pulled them back up over her shoulder, gently tucking them around her as his mood swung around one-hundred eighty degrees.

Yeah, he might never see her again after tomorrow, but suddenly that didn't matter. At this moment he felt better than he had in a very very long time. It was enough to know she was alive, that someone this singularly remarkable, who had made such a difference in the lives of those around her, who'd gotten such a raw deal at the end, was getting another chance.

One thought was paramount above all else: Cordelia was alive!

A rising tide of overwhelming joy at that thought began to fill him. With slow awareness he realized he didn't feel the aching emptiness anymore. The echos were gone. In gentle silence, somewhere in the dark behind them, the Tinman had slipped away, passing on into the night. Xander watched her for a few more moments, a slightly lopsided smile returning to his face, then brought his attention back to the road ahead, illuminated by the bright headlights.

* * *

TBC? I dunno. I think the story is good enough to end here. It all depends on time and interest 


	2. Not Kansas

**Summary**: Xander returns home with Cordelia 

**Spoilers**: Up through BtVS:Choosen and AtS:NFA

**Rating**: Minor language, nothing even a tot couldn't handle.

**Disclaimer**: The usual. Twentieth Century Fox and Mutant Enemy, and all other copyright holders, own the rights to their respective works and characters. There is no intent to deprive the owners in any way.

**AN**: I'll be the first to admit this part is not as strong as the first part. Hey, I had some other ideas I wanted to get out first and the worst bugger of all, "Real Life", kept interfering.

**AN2**: Updated for spelling and other minor errors. New motto: Eyeballs do NOT make a good spell-checher!

* * *

**Part 2, Not Kansas**

Xander noticed Cordelia fitfully stirring at the same time he began to watch for the Saxmundham turn-off of the A12. While chewing on his lower lip he considered her presence for the gajillionth-millionth time that night. Every mile closer to home brought greater and greater turmoil to his thoughts. Really it was just two that did the cha-cha in his head: "She's alive!", accompanied by a small grin, stepping lively with "Now what?", with its attendant frown. Elation and Wonder dancing with their partner, Concern.

_Okay, break it down_, he thought. _First, just get the hell home._ That was one crazy-ass trip, his one afternoon of free time turning out to be the craziest thing of all!

_Okay, so, home first. Check. Next? Sleep!_

An hour ago he realized how tired he was when he started to revert to American driving habits, more than once catching himself about to drift across the divider into the right-hand side of the road.

_Sleep. No, wait, first get her set up in the flat, go grab a spare room at the Council House, something'll be available. Then sleep! Tomorrow? Wake up (duh!), breakfast. Then what?_

_No! Not that again!_ he mentally slapped himself.

He glanced at her again as she stretched, the sweats pulling tight in interesting places, and he added shopping. _Where do the girls go for clothes around Sax?_ He'd have to ask one of them, pulling his eyes off Cordelia and back to the road.

_And, oh yeah, Giles in the afternoon._

He emitted another in a long series of sighs and smiled without humor in anticipation of Giles' reaction to the new "item" for discussion. That, he decided emphatically, he would worry about later.

Fine. He was set. He relaxed a little now that some kind of plan, though a rather lame and obvious one, was in place.

Even as Cordelia lifted herself into a more upright sitting position she still wasn't yet fully awake as Xander took the exit for the road into town.

"Being dead must be exhausting!" as he forced a good-natured laugh, "You slept the entire trip." Mostly on his shoulder, which had the intoxicating effect of making him a little light-headed, but also kept his right side nice and warm. At some point after London she'd fallen over the other way on the wide bench seat. He'd done what he could to keep the blanket arranged over her but it kept falling off.

His laughter, sounding harsh in her ear, jolted Cordelia completely into the world of the conscious and dashed away the last slumbering haze. She had no idea where she was and reacted in a panic, eyes darting everywhere, seeing nothing in the surrounding dimness but the black-on-black shadow of the passing hedgerows. Her arms swung about, pressing back at the encroaching dark, her loud breathing shallow and fast, gasping.

"Whoah, whoah! Easy, Cordy!" Xander put a hand out to grab one of her flailing arms. She struggled silently for a few moments before calming down, breaths slowing down and evening out, the twitchy flailing ceasing. She eventually sat completely still and, with a very unhappy expression, stared out the window.

Xander let her hand go and she automatically clasped both of her hands together in her lap. She stayed that way as Xander watched her carefully when he could as they approached town along South Entrance. Her head began to turn with the passing houses and buildings that floating by on the other side of the glass, glum expression not changing. She tried in vain to recognize anything she was seeing, seeking the comforting familiar and therefore finding nothing.

"It's not a dream, is it?" he heard her whisper her first words since leaving Salisbury.

"No, doesn't look like," he responded sympathetically, reaching over to gently rub along her shoulder, hoping it would comfort her. She didn't flinch away and he gently continued.

A shuddering breath escaped her before she looked around again. He let his hand drop back to the steering wheel as she sat fully back in the seat. Cordelia gave the outside world a more thoughtful examination as Xander drove slowly through the center of the small market town. Though possessing only a fraction of the poise she had displayed earlier at dinner, Cordelia at least appeared ready to deal with the situation more calmly now.

"What time is it?" she asked, voice still quiet, barely audible above the ambient noise in the truck.

"After midnight. More traffic near London than I expected," Xander responded matter of factly.

"Okay. Umm. Where are we?" this time turning toward Xander before turning back again to look at the town.

"Sax. Just a another minute or two till we get home."

The answer seemed to startle her and she whipped her head around to face him. "Sex? What!"

Shaking his head with some small amusement, he replied, "No, no, no! NOT 'sex'! 'SAX'. As in Saxmundham. This town," taking a hand off the wheel to wave at the passing shop fronts. "It's what the locals call it." He paused then added, "Pervert," with a smile.

"You would know."

Not her most clever rejoinder but he was encouraged that she seemed to be returning to the normal Cordy he knew.

"Dumb name." she supplied next, without a hint of embarrassment or apology.

He chuckled at this simple little reminder of how much he had missed her outlook on life. How much he just plain missed her. _She thinks it, she says it, no holds barred and tact be damned. That's my Cordy!_

She swiveled her head, resuming her casual inspection of the various buildings of the small town. "Pretty. Pretty small, too," she observed while they continued down High Street, prior to taking a left onto St. Johns Road.

"That it is," he agreed, "Smaller than Sunnydale. By quite a fair margin: no Starbucks at all!" He paused to consider the implications. "I think that's a Good Thing. You might like it, too. If you're around long enough." He kept his tone as neutral as possible on that last statement.

The final turn onto Chapel was made and he soon pulled into a well-lit alley behind a row of two-story whitewashed brick buildings.

"Our stop. It is now safe to unbuckle your seat belts and move about the cabin. Please be careful when opening overhead compartments as contents may have shifted during flight."

Twisting in the seat to face her, he somberly noted she appeared to have lost some of the composure regained only moments before. Though just tiny tremors, and despite the warmth in the cab, she was shivering.

"Cordy! What's wrong?"

"Everything! Nothing!" she exclaimed, "Just... I don't know, I don't know!..." She fell back into silence, staring at the brick walls all around.

Xander's mouth twisted slightly as he watched her. He wished he had some idea of what she must be going through, knew he probably had not clue one, and wanted desperately to help. Right now he thought she probably needed "space" to work things out in her head without any pressure from him. But inside a truck in a back alley was really not the place for that.

"Let's get to the flat. You'll be more comfortable there." He opened the door and stepped out, pulling out his duffel from behind the seats before closing the door.

Cordelia silently joined him and they headed back down the alley to the sidewalk. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as she followed slightly behind. He sensed an uncomfortable tension building up between them, but she seemed willing enough to follow him without question and he let it lay.

All at the same time she was so much the way he remembered and yet not. Six years _was_ a long time. He knew she'd changed during those years in LA, hearing second- and third-hand stories about Angel's group. But it was an abstract kind of knowledge, like knowing it was the Earth rotating and not the sun going around; but it still looked like the sun rising and setting. Putting the reality together with the expectation was jarring and he wasn't sure what to say to her now. It upset him greatly that he didn't know how to help.

Dragging his thoughts back to the mundane, it had been a really long drive and he was looking forward to a nice long sleep. He started to go over again the logistics of getting Cordelia set up in the flat, first dumping off some of the stuff from his duffel for more clean clothes before he went to crash at the Council House.

They were both absorbed in their own thoughts as she followed him around the corner. Just as they turned the corner a loud howl from behind caused them to spin about, both shocked to see a very large, very dark, roughly humanoid shape charging them, mere yards away and closing fast.

As always, he quashed his first instinct, which was to run. When you're not a slayer, or tagging along with a bunch of them, running was almost always the safest course of action. Which meant Xander hardly ever did. Not then, and most definitely not now.

Instead, Xander first shoved Cordelia to the side, eliciting a startled yelp of protest from her. He reached down to his waist to grab a weapon. Nothing! Shit! He'd left everything in the truck. And after making a quick scan of the area around him he didn't see anything he could use as a makeshift weapon. He cursed himself for being so careless. Even as safe as Sax was, you always, _always_ needed to be on your toes, always needed to be ready, always needed a weapon handy! Only a few months back from Africa and already he was slipping.

The demon was nearly on top of him and something needed doing quick! Next best action: do the unexpected. This was usually synonymous with doing something stupid, a skill he happened to be particularly good at. He threw his duffel at the onrushing demon, who easily deflected it. But the action had the desired effect of distracting the demon enough that it didn't see Xander's initial charge right behind the duffel.

Too late the demon swung its arm around to knock the puny human to the ground. Xander got inside and under the sweeping appendage, lowering his shoulder. He drove with all his weight into the demon's middle, giving it a vicious shoulder block, one that would have put any normal being down hard into the pavement.

The demon only staggered back a tiny step and regrouped quickly. Though surprised the humans didn't try to run, expecting to chase them down before tearing them apart, and even more surprised one actually tried an attack, it was back on the offensive. The demon twisted and pounded down on Xander's body as the human tried to rebound away, knocking Xander sprawling. As it bent over to pick up the prone Xander it received a savage back-kick into the leg, about where a knee would be on a human, and howled in pain. All of a sudden this easy job was turning out to be tougher than it had been led to expect.

Xander scrabbled forward, getting up and away to put some space between them. One of the curious things he had observed about Faith, Buffy to a lesser extent, and then all the other slayers he had worked with so closely, was how their fights were virtually an extreme form of dancing, the slayer executing a kind of beautiful choreography, inevitably leading up to the final killing crescendo. With their strength and speed they had that luxury and rarely suffer undue consequences.

As a normal human Xander knew he couldn't play such games. He either needed a quick kill, usually by surprise or subterfuge, or get the hell away. Running was now out and he had used his one tiny surprise tossing the duffel. He didn't know how he was going to get the kill without a weapon.

Risking quick glances around, Xander continued to search for anything which could be used. A brick, a pipe, a stick, anything. Hell, even a paper airplane! He spared a split-second to mentally curse the British tendency of keeping their cities cleaner than American's did theirs. If he was in the States right now there would almost assuredly be some piece of junk lying about he could use. But not here. Where was the proverbial stick up their arses? He could really use one just about now!

In order to better see a punch or kick on his blind side, Xander had learned to adopt a left-handed fighting stance, something gained from painful experience in Africa. He rapidly sidestepped around to turn the demon away from Cordelia, who had gotten herself up by this time. There were weapons in the truck, and if maybe...

He managed to grab his keys as he continued to dodge and weave away from the demon's kicks and punches. He ducked a swinging claw, still taking a following painful blow to his ribs, and tossed the keys in Cordelia's direction. "Weapons! Behind the seats!" he yelled at her over his shoulder, not seeing if she caught the keys or even understood what he was saying.

Xander was again knocked to the ground when the demon swept his legs out from under him. He immediately rolled to avoid the stomping kick he knew was coming. After regaining his feet he continued to dodge and block, striking back when he could, sometimes landing a hit when the demon was exposed after one of its own wild thrusts. Once or twice he even earned a grunt of pain from the beast, but he knew the best he could hope for was a war of attrition, which was a certainty he would lose. And definitely sooner rather than later.

The demon, seeing its opponent was able to avoid or block most of its punches decided to crowd and pin Xander rather than going for a decapitating blow or disembowling kick. Xander managed to lunge away one more time before it could pin him down. This time, as he got to his feet, he was doubled over, wrapping himself around an excruciating tearing pain in his ribs. When the demon jumped at him he tried feinting left and then right but was slowed by the injuries taken so far and the demon wasn't fooled. It caught his arm and pulled him in for the kill.

_Damnit, where is she? What's taking her so long?_

He struggled to break free, throwing kicks, punches and elbows at any part of the demon he could reach. Despite landing a few more blows, even doing some very minor damage with one or two, he lacked the strength and leverage to really put anything behind his punches. The demon was just too strong and he knew he was lost. An intense dread overcame him as he thought there may have been another demon which ambushed Cordelia. Damn! How could he be so stupid? They should have just run.

The demon shifted its grip, being careful not to let the surprisingly strong and agile human break away, and began to twist his head one way while pulling the body the other. Xander fought back in desperation, vision contracting until he could only see through a tunnel, the far end getting further away and blurrier by the second. In a detached way he wondered why demons loved so much to snap human's necks. _Perhaps it was their way to show the utter contempt they had of humans? Or maybe they just liked the sound?_

As he contemplated these final odd and morbid thoughts, at the edge of his hearing a whistling sound culminated in a meaty shock. The intense twisting pressure on his neck disappeared at the same time hot, thick liquid spewed over his neck and hair. The demon emitted a sharp mewling yowl in his ear that climbed the vocal registers before fading into oblivion. More warm stickiness began to flow down Xander's back as the demon's limp body toppling forward onto him, pushing him down to the ground. Xander was too weak to resist and let himself sag down under the dead weight.

He lay there for many seconds, with the demon on top of him, catching his breath in great whooping gasps, eye closed, trying to wish away the pain that blossomed in his chest with each intake. He stayed that way for several more moments before he heard Cordelia speak.

"You just gonna go to sleep now?" she tartly inquired.

Turning his head to look up at her and tell her to stick it where it would hurt the most, he gaped in astonishment at the sight. Cordelia was slowly rising out of a fighting stance, relaxed and casually swinging the bloody sword as she regarded the tableaux before her, grinning beatifically in triumph.

A pain-filled grunt later he pushed off the ground, levering the demon's body off, and struggled into a sitting position, leaning back against the demon's still-hot carcass. He allowed his breathing to slow down to something normal as the adrenaline rush faded. The shakes would begin soon.

He continued sitting there, looking back at the body and idly rubbing his arm we're he'd taken the brunt of one blow, while the adrenaline worked its shivering way out of him. Thankfully his ribs were only bruised and not broken--he knew the difference from, well, painful experience--and he could deal with the pain for now.

"Well that was not the most fun I've had in awhile," he said. He watched her for another moment, standing there all brash and confident, so completely at odds from her attitude just minutes ago. "Took you long enough," trying to match her new-found cockiness.

"You're welcome!" she snapped. Whatever funk she had been suffering from was gone, the needs of the moment apparently outweighing any self-pitying she might have been indulging in.

He sighed and reconsidered. Anger consumed him again at how careless he had been. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the proximity to home, or even Cordelia's presence, messing up his thoughts. But no matter what, he'd been damn stupid, and had just gotten very, very damn lucky.

He looked back over at the body, then slowly back to her and returned her steady gaze. In a low, sincere and contrite tone he apologized to her, "I'm sorry. And thanks." He paused a second before adding, "And since when did you become all Warrior Princess?"

Her challenging expression, immediately upon hearing his apology, dissolved into a softer one graced with an amused smile. "Hey, well, you know, LA's a tough town!" She regarded him for a moment more before delivering her verdict. "You look like shit. And that wasn't the welcoming committee you were expecting, huh?" she asked, pointing with the sword.

He shook his head at her barbs, about to tell her she didn't look a whole lot better, still wearing his old and faded sweats, the stained coat over it, dry hair sticking out at all angles, even a few stray blobs of demon gore on her face. The reply caught in his throat.

It was so unfair! She looked magnificent! And he probably did look like shit. Cordy was just being her usual subtle-as-a-wrecking-ball honest self.

He was also pretty damn impressed with the easy and confident air with which she handled the sword. For her part she had been equally impressed that he had even tried to take on such a large demon, acquitting himself quite well until the demon's superior strength and speed nearly decided the matter. She knew he had always been a better fighter than Buffy, or any of the other Scoobies, ever admitted to, but this had still been damn impressive.

Of course, neither could ever admit to each other what they were thinking. It just wasn't their way to say such things verbally, and their lives had long since brought them to a time and place where they couldn't express themselves the way they once had.

Cordelia extended her free hand down and helped him up. Xander brushed himself off as they both stared down at the demon's carcass, head nearly split in two.

"Nasty brute," Xander commented dryly, prodding it with his toe. "Recognize it?"

"Nope. That's Wesley's job," she said absent-mindedly.

He glanced quickly at her and sighed quietly. Tomorrow. He'd tell her tomorrow.

He paused before continuing, waving at the demon, "This was really unusual. With all the regular and practice sweeps this area is pretty much a demon-free zone." He wiped away at the back of his neck, slinging off some blood, while continuing to ponder the demon laying in an expanding puddle of its own green-brown goo, before he finally reached a decision.

"Come on," he lobbed over his shoulder as he started back toward the truck, curled slightly around one side to ease the pain.

"You're just going to leave that thing here?" she called after him, still in her spot next to the cooling carcass.

"No."

"Well?"

"You'll see. Come with or stay. I'll be back in a minute."

She decided she preferred to go with him rather than be out on the empty streets of a strange town. It would save any awkward explanations if a cop, or a Bobby, or Billy, or whatever they called the police here, came poking around at just the wrong moment.

Xander dropped the truck's tailgate and thought about jumping up. The bruised ribs killed that idea in short order and so instead he gingerly crawled into the truck's bed. Cordelia watched with distracted interest as Xander opened a panel in the toolbox, pulling and shifting unseen items this way and that, eventually yanking out a towel. He did his best to squeeze more of the demon's bloody gore from his hair, neck and back before returning to search again through the toolbox. Finally, with a satisfied grunt, he took out a folded blue plastic tarp.

"Got a sink in there, too?" Cordelia inquired, arching one eyebrow.

He replied with a grin, "No, haven't run across one...yet. But I did see a waffle iron once!" She shook her head and smiled her reply. Before leaving the truck Xander took the sword from her and tossed it back behind the seats, not bothering to cover it.

After retracing their steps Xander folded out the tarp next to the carcass. He stood and kicked at the demon until it had rolled completely onto the tarp, then knelt down and wrapped the tarp's edges tightly around it, completely hiding it from view. He bent to pick up one end of it, looked up at her expectantly and asked, "Give me a hand?"

"What? No way! I'm not touching that, that...that thing!" she sputtered indignantly.

"No slash and carry for you, huh?"

"It's gross! Besides, you're the guy, that's a guy thing!"

He shook his head and muttered under his breath as he knelt down near the middle of the torso and worked his arm under the middle of the heavy bundle, getting ready to pull the carcass into a modified fireman's carry.

"What did you just say?" she demanded, stepping closer.

"Nothing, nothing!" wheezing a painful gasp as he stood up, slinging the weight over his shoulders.

"'Cause I thought you said 'useless'," she accused, getting up into his face, eyes squinting dangerously. At that moment, if he were under oath, he would have sworn to a jury of his peers he could actually see smoke rising from under her collar. No doubt about it, nosiree.

And if he were the Xander of six years ago he would already be halfway up the English hills.

But times and people change. He only stepped back quickly, or at least as quickly as his ribs and burden would allow, getting out of her reach. "What? No, no, no! You heard wrong. Yeah. I would never say that! Never! Careless. I said I was careless!" Then he turned and hastily beat a path back to the truck, weaving slightly under the demon's weight.

She caught up to him, not saying a word, watching his face change back and forth from intensely bewildered worry to a merely distracted anxiousness.

With a grunting heave he unloaded the demon's body into the bed, pushing at it until it was fully on the truck. Turning back to face her, "Another reason for having this thing. And not the first time it's come in handy." He stepped over to the driver's door and told her to get in.

"Now you bury it, right?"

"Ummm, not quite," shaking his head.

"Explain yourself, Xander!"

He smirked back at her. "Think of it as a bonus side trip," and refused to say more. Xander drove them back through the lit streets of Saxmundham, then into the dark countryside outside of town, along narrow roads enclosed by tall, thick hedgerows, almost invisible in the starlight.

Without warning he cut the wheel sharply and they angled into an opening she didn't spot until they were already through it. They were obviously on some kind of driveway she realized, hearing the gravel crunch under the tires and seeing a very large house up ahead. A few lights glowed through the upper windows and more lights were on by the front door. But rather than stopping in front Xander took them around the side of the house where only one dim light was on, stopping by stairs leading down.

"What is this place?" as she peered about.

"This, milady, is the headquarters of my esteemed employers, The New--and very much improved (we hope)--Watcher's Council. Wait here," he commanded, "I'll just be a few minutes."

Cordelia watched through the back window as he took the wrapped carcass and carefully carried it down the stairs. A light flared through the blackness of the stairwell, further illuminating a lower part of the ivy-covered structure. It was an ancient, weathered brick, completely covered in vines in many places, broken only by gaps for the windows. Turning her head in the other direction, away from the house, there appeared to be a large open lawn but it was too dark to tell for certain.

Cordelia wondered about Xander while she waited. He confused her. Their whole relationship, then and now, confused her. In some ways it was like nothing had changed, even with the many years--and miles--between them. They could still bicker and trade the verbal barb, getting a rise from each other, each sharing an odd kind of mutual pleasure from their aggravating effect on one another. It was one of the few things she had missed during her first years in Los Angeles. Bickering with Doyle, and later Gunn and Wesley, just didn't have the quite the same kick as with Xander.

She liked the way he went after the demon: a white knight, protecting her the way he used to Buffy. A stupid thing to do, granted, but she liked the sentiment behind the action, the care and concern for her safety without considering his own. And his fighting ability had really been quite impressive! She only jumped in at the end when her help was actually needed.

For brief moments the goofy lameness she had once adored, but never admitted to anyone, with the easy smile and the stupid jokes and all, would show through. But she didn't hear the humor anymore. The jokes sounded perfunctory, like he'd already thought of them beforehand, tossing them out when expected. Their waking time together was only a few hours now and already she could tell he was a far moodier person, almost morose at times, with a nearly Angel-like broodiness. She hoped this darker Xander was just a thing of the moment and not his normal behavior, but suspected she was hoping in vain.

Back on the positive side, she liked the newfound confidence that appeared to be genuine. He could be very commanding, almost autocratic even. It pointed to a maturity that she found attractive.

There. She admitted it.

Despite everything, she realized she still found Xander attractive. She wondered about that. She had never really understood it then and she sure didn't understand it now. To be certain, their previous relationship had been a peculiar one--one virtually nobody could explain--but it was something she had treasured in its time. It had affected her far more than she would have ever thought possible, touching her at the deepest levels, even opening herself up to feelings she didn't know she could possess.

Long after the fact, and in spite of his betrayal, she could appreciate what he had done for her. But after the betrayal and the pain, the years of silence engendered by both, what kind of relationship could they have now? Did she even _want_ a relationship with him again? To risk again, even a superficial friendship? Maybe it would just be easier if she accepted the proffered help and then they just got out of each other's lives... now that she apparently had one again! Could she spare any emotional energy, spare anything at all from trying to understand this new life, for him?

She was lost in her thoughts, not realizing he had returned until the door opened and he had climbed back into the truck.

"What was that all about?" when she looked up.

"Among other things, there's a sort of morgue in the basement. I dropped the body off and the staff can look at it tomorrow."

"Ewww! Just get rid of it!"

"We might learn something useful from an autopsy," he mildly chided her. "Once that's done, and if it seems safe, it gets burned. Or it might be buried. Sometimes we have to use magic to get rid of the body. Not my department, though," he shrugged.

They drove in silence back to town, parking in the same place as before. This time, much to his relief, the walk to his flat was quiet and completely demon-free. Sax hadn't reached the "hear no evil, see no evil" level of bliss that Sunnydale had had and he really wanted it to stay that way.

After turning the corner at the alley they soon approached the stone steps to a two-story white-washed brick building, with slate roof and stone window lintels. She found it was surprisingly modern inside once they had passed through the main entry and climbed the steep and narrow stairs to his door. Xander reaching around to flip on the lights as soon as he stepped into the flat. "Home, sweet home," he said somewhat ironically.

His flat was essentially a large L-shaped studio, the entrance at the top of the L. The edge of a bed was visible around the far corner, in the alcove forming the foot of the L. The remainder of the space was occupied by a kitchenette at the end nearest the door and an almost spartan living space in between, a cheap-looking sofa and a very plain coffee table facing a smaller than expected television set on a shelving unit.

He fussed about, getting his bag into the room and dropping it near the alcove. She slowly entered the place after him, looking around. After quickly familiarizing herself with the basic layout of the place she wandered aimlessly, running her hand over the shelves, picking up and briefly examining the few knick-knacks scattered about. Then her attention was drawn to one section of wall, opposite the foot of the bed, which had numerous framed and unframed photographs of various sizes.

In the meanwhile he plucked a few items from his duffle, throwing them into a hamper, then grabbing a couple of things from the bureau and stuffing them back into the bag. He crossed back to the kitchen area and called over to ask, "Care for anything? Something to drink or eat? I don't have much--I need to go to Somerfield's tomorrow, but..." he petered out uncertainly, shrugging his shoulders.

She turned to him, asking "Something hot, maybe?" She still felt a bit of a chill even after being in the hot truck for all that time, perhaps as a result of whatever force that brought her to this time and place.

He returned to the cupboards, opening one and peering in as he began calling out items, "Tea, decaf coffee, instant...umm, lessee...powdered chicken soup." Pulling his head back out to watch her, "I could zap a burrito or some popcorn..."

"No, no. Tea's fine."

While he busied himself, heating the water and then getting the tea and mugs, she stepped up close to the photographs to look at them carefully. The first thing she noticed was how they were roughly arranged in two groups. A large set of several large and medium sized photos were next to a second, much smaller group of wallet-sized pictures. Something about this second group pulled at her and drew her closer still.

They were all pictures of Buffy, Willow, and other people from Sunnydale, some she didn't recognize. One was a photo of a beautiful girl, slightly angular facial features framed by soft waves of blond hair. _Anya?_ she wondered, though she looked different than Cordelia remembered, with the hair longer and much lighter. In the photo next to it another girl, a bit big-boned and shy-looking, stood very close to Willow, their arms around each other's waists. _This must be Tara_, she thought. In another photo, a very tall man stood behind Buffy, both arms around her. _Ahh, and this must be the infamous Riley that Angel muttered on about for weeks on end. Not bad. A little oafish looking, but still...ver-r-ry salty! No wonder Angel was so ticked!_

She saw herself featured prominently in yet another picture, one from when her hair was long and dark, with short bangs. Losing herself again in the memories of the time she and Xander were together and happy she didn't hear him approach from behind. She started slightly when he stopped beside her, just in her field of view. Without turning to face him she pointed to one of the previous pictures, "This is Anya?"

He gave a quick nod and an affirmative grunt, expression gone distant, staring at the photo.

"She looks different from what I remember. We actually only talked a few times in high-school. It's like she was hardly ever there. You went to the prom with her, didn't you?" this time looking back at him, seeing the stony mask.

Again he only nodded his head.

The AI gang and the Sunnydale gang hardly ever communicated back then, both of them so wrapped up in their own apocalypses. But occasional snippets of gossip would make their way from one group to the other. She recalled a few stories about them, Anya and Xander, being together. And something about a wedding. She remembered hearing, maybe from Willow, that the wedding hadn't gone off.

She never did find out the details. However, she did recall feeling a certain wistfulness when she heard the news, a slight twinge of regret that their own time together ended so badly. Remembering that regretful feeling added to her current confusion regarding Xander. It surprised her now that regret was the emotion she had felt most strongly, not anger or bitterness, or even indifference.

"Where is she?"

Cordelia turned back toward him when he didn't answer after several seconds crawled by. She noticed a shininess in the eye softening his otherwise stone features. He cleared his throat. "She died," he answered hoarsely, staring at the photo, jaw clenching, not offering any further explanation.

And maybe, giving it another moment's thought, she shouldn't be surprised at all that regret had been the ruling emotion then. A deep compassion swept through her in response to the obvious pain he was still feeling. "Whoops, TactlessCordy rides again!" She took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm so sorry, Xander."

He returned the squeeze and let go. "It's okay. You couldn't have known." as he flashed a quick smile, recovering quickly. Xander returned to the kitchen to prepare the tea before she had a chance to ask any more questions. _Effective technique_, she thought sadly.

She moved her attention to the group of larger pictures. They all contained young girls of a varied mix of races, mostly negro, from shades of light cream-in-coffee all the way to deepest black. He was in most of the photos, either standing next to the girl or within a group of them. The few times he was smiling she could tell it was forced, smiling only with the mouth and not the eyes--eye, damnit! His lone eye just seemed to stare through the camera lens, if he even looked at the camera. She shuddered, quickly glancing back at him while he worked in the kitchen. Though not always, the girls usually seemed to be genuinely happy in Xander's presence, smiling at him and even possessively holding onto him.

Xander had short hair in a few of the images, looked a little overweight in some as well. After a little bit of study she was able to identify a progression in the loss of weight, the length of hair, and the tan. She noticed when a mass of bright red scars appeared on his face and arms. If her progression was right, he didn't smile at all after that.

He returned with mugs of steaming tea. Waving at the larger photos she asked, "These are from Africa?"

"Hmm hmm," sipping carefully from his mug.

Something occurred to her just then, little bits of information and observations that had been floating around in her head since arriving at Stonehenge, falling into place and forming the outline of a recognizable picture. She set the mug down and started counting the photos. There were well over a dozen, almost two dozen, in fact.

"Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"How...long were you there? In Africa?" she inquired, still examining the pictures, head cocked to the side.

He looked up at the ceiling in concentration, "Well, I took off not too long after Sunnydale. Hmmm, got back the beginning of this year, so...call it a year and half, give or take."

"A year and half?" Cordelia whispered to herself, then repeated more loudly, "A year and a half!" Her voice quickly climbing in pitch and volume. "What _year_ is this, Xander! How _long_ have I been 'dead', Xander?" she virtually screamed, starting to pace in front of him.

He was only surprised the question hadn't arisen sometime earlier during their dinner. He very briefly debated lying to her, immediately abandoning the idea before it was fully formed. Although he was willing to delay giving her tough answers to difficult questions she hadn't yet asked, waiting for a more suitable time and setting to present painful news, she deserved only the truth when she did ask.

"It's 2005, Cordelia. May, 2005. Angel told us you died February 4th...last year. Over a year ago," he replied gently.

"A year! A year! Ohmygod, Oh. My. God!" falling back onto the sofa. "I can't believe it! I was in Angel's office earlier today! TODAY!" shaking her head dumbly. All of her regained confidence was instantly blown away by the new knowledge as she tried to wrap her mind around the reality of having been dead for so long.

And now alive again.

Xander sat down next to her and gathered her in his arms as she continued slowly shaking her head. She didn't flinch or object to the contact and even leaned into him after a few moments. He tried soothing her with comforting words, telling her everything was okay, that he would make sure it would be okay.

After awhile she sniffled a little, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. He finally let go of her when she said she would be fine, though he didn't leave her side just yet.

"Wow! Dead for a year," she repeated like a mantra.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Xander said with not quite forced cheerfulness.

She looked askance at him. "Yeah? What side would that be, Xander?"

"Well, uh, you beat Buffy's record! She was only dead for a few months."

A look of pained disgust crossed her face. "Oh yippee, I always wanted to be in Guinness. NOT!"

"Uh, then there's the whole tax thing. You don't owe any for the last year!" He was already cringing at that bit of lameness even as he endured her venomous glare.

"And hey--and you can trust me on this--you're still hot as ever!"

The heat in her glare dropped a few thousand degrees. "Really?"

"Umm hmm."

This time she smiled and answered in classic Cordy style, "Well of course I'm still hot!"

"Feeling a little better now?" he asked, after she had preened for a few moments.

"A little, yeah." Her somewhat happy expression took a step back in favor of a more thoughtful one. "It's...just a lot to think about, a lot of questions. _How_ did I come back? _Why_ am I back? _Who_ is responsible for all this? Am I good now, or am I evil again?" She was quite visibly concerned by the answer to that last question.

Xander admired her resiliency, the inner strength and self-confidence that gave her the ability to handle such incredible news and then look beyond to the heart of the matter. "I can't answer any of those for you yet, Cordy, and I understand your concern. Call me selfish, but I'm inclined to think having you back counts as a 'Good Thing'. Look, I'm supposed to meet with Giles tomorrow and we can get into it then. He'll be the best place to start. Till then, do you think you can manage? Maybe just a little even?"

"Giles, huh?"

"Yep, Mr. Loves-to-research hisownself."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I think I'll be able to manage," the smile making a comeback.

"Good!"

"But...wow! Dead all that time," shaking her head in wonder.

A jaw cracking yawn escaped Xander at that moment. "Whoa, pardon me!" He slapped his face a few times as Cordelia looked on curiously. "Oh boy. I don't know about you, and I hate to be rude. Truthfully, I'd love to stay up all night and help you figure this out, but I'm really beat and I'll just start getting cranky if I don't get my forty. So," he continued as he got up and walked back to the kitchen area, "help yourself to anything. There isn't a whole lot right now--I'll fix that tomorrow--but what's here is yours."

"So tomorrow, err... today. Later today. First, I get some sleep. Then I join you in the morning for breakfast, followed by shopping. Get you something to wear. I'm sure you're used to Rodeo Drive but we'll come up with something. Clothes, brushes, makeup, whatever you need to get through the next few days."

She dumbly nodded her head at this onslaught from CommanderXander, at a loss as to why he was suddenly telling her all this.

He moved over to the bedroom alcove, pulled some linens from a closet and began changing the bed, speaking over his shoulder as he worked. "There's clean towels in the bathroom," indicating with a quick tilt of his head toward an unseen door. "When you take a shower keep it under ten minutes; the water heater isn't big enough for longer." He finished fussing with the bed and pulled some items out of a drawer. "I don't have 'girl' clothes around but here's some stuff that should work until tomorrow."

He put the small pile of clothing down on the top of the dresser and walked over to the counter separating the kitchen from the living area. "And here's an extra key for the door, but you usually don't have to worry too much, it's pretty safe around here." Pursing his lips in memory of the earlier events, "Usually," he sheepishly added the qualifier.

Next he pointed at a small, white message board above the phone, "If you need anything, you can reach me at this number, anytime of night." Picking up a marker he circled something on the board. "Dial it exactly as shown and you won't have a problem. Whoever answers, just ask for me and they'll find me."

She had been watching him silently the entire time he delivered the whole lecture series, pointing out the different things he was referring to. He took one more look about, nodded his head in satisfaction he'd covered all the bases, and headed for the door, grabbing the duffel on the way. "And I'll see you in the morning."

As he wound down she looked confused and a bit uncertain. His move toward the door prompted her to speak up, "What are you doing, Xander?"

"Ah...telling you where everything is? Getting you set for the night?"

"No! I mean, you're leaving! Why are you leaving?"

Spreading his arms wide to indicate the single room of the flat, he answered, "Ain't much privacy here. I just figured, well, y'know..." He paused uncertainly, then hooked his thumb over his shoulder, "I'm going to crash at the house. Be back in the morning," and turned to go.

"Xander?" she called out, a brittle crackliness in her voice.

"Hmm? Yeah, Cordy?" turning back. He was really looking forward to a few hours sleep. CrankyXander was just waking up and he couldn't help keep a certain 'what now' peevish tone out of his voice. She did say she could manage, after all.

"Don't. Don't go. Please."

His look asked the question.

"I don't want to be alone. Not yet." She gave a weak smile to accompany the admission.

He pursed his lips as CrankyXander was instantly booted aside by Concerned-and-caring Xander. He stared at her for several moments considering her request. She fidgeted a little under his gaze, whether in nervousness, embarrassment or whatever, he couldn't tell. He nodded his head and sucked in a breath through his nose. He hadn't quite expected this, not that he would ever refuse it. But...

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Well," clapping his hands. "Well. Then that's set, I guess," stepping back in and shutting the door, "I'll just take the couch then, alrighty."

With a relieved expression, she got up and went over to the freshly made bed while he turned off some lights before returning to the couch and sitting down. After they both removed their shoes she crawled under the covers as-is, not taking anything else off, while he removed his sweatshirt and flopped back into the cushions, crossing his arms over his stomach.

Xander turned off the last light and squirmed around to find a more comfortable position. He heard the blankets rustle as Cordelia also made herself more comfortable. When they finished their gyrations a loud silence filled the small flat, broken only be the whoosh of the occasional passing car and the usual creaks and groans from an old building settling. Street lighting filtered in through the warped panes of glass, making strange patterns of light on the ceiling.

"Xander?" he heard Cordelia ask quietly.

"Hmmm?" he mumbled, closer to sleep than awake.

"Thank you."

"Hmmm hmmm," his hind brain automatically answered, though he really hadn't heard a word as he drifted off completely.

---

Xander woke up to a most extraordinary and unusual feeling, one he had rarely experienced in the previous two years. Perhaps even longer. A tingly feeling of anticipation, the good kind when it just seems the near future holds wonderful things in store. He thought it must be like what he'd heard other kids talk about when they woke up on Christmas mornings.

He did have enough experience to qualify the time period to only the near future, meaning possibly no more than the next five minutes. He hated that he thought that way, but it was just safer. However, for the time being he would just go with the flow and enjoy the sensation for as long--or as short--as it lasted.

He stretched, wincing slightly at the sharp pain in his ribs, a pointed reminder of the previous night's activities, and also from old scars as they pulled tight. The sound of groans and sleepy-headed muttering further reminded him of the reason for this unique morning. He lifted his head above the back of the couch and saw a delicate feminine foot protruding from under the covers. That's right! Cordelia! Cordy was alive. And here in this room with him! Yup, that was as good a reason as any to anticipate the day.

---

He began reviewing the plans for the day after they were served, "After ten the store's should be op--uh..." he stuttered to a stop in wide-eyed amazement as he watched Cordelia virtually inhale the food in front of her, "...after you've eaten all the food in the county! Hungry much?"

"Starved! Takes a lot of energy being dead, I guess," she said cheerfully around a mouthful of eggs, fork already digging up the next helping.

They were sitting at a window table in the Corner House Cafe, a couple of blocks away from his flat, where Xander had begun a ritual of starting his day before heading off to the Council House. The Corner House was a bright and clean place, the food plain and good. The patrons were usually locals but there were always a number of tourists as well and he liked hearing the mix of accents and languages spoken around him.

He had ordered the full English Fry-up for himself and she had followed suit: bacon, eggs, fried bread, tomato rather than the mushrooms they usually served. It was a heavy, deadly meal, one he had quickly learned he couldn't have too often. Today, however, just seemed like a day that a massive intake of yummy, greasy badness was called for. She obviously agreed.

"So I'd imagine. Uh, anyway. After we're done here we'll go clothes shopping. There's a place or two in town we can start with." Before leaving the flat he'd had a most interesting and awkward phone conversation with the slayer who first answered the phone. He didn't explain why he wanted to know where to shop for girl's clothing and he chuckled at the kinds of stories that must now be starting the rounds among the other slayers. "I should get some groceries at Somerfield's and you can get, um, y'know...other stuff you'll need there. Then Giles early this afternoon." He looked up at her before asking, "Feel ready for it?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure I'm ready to see anyone yet. Can I let you know later?"

"Sure. If you want, the afternoon is yours. I'll leave you the keys to the flat and some cash. You ever driven on the left side of the road?"

"No. LA can make you feel like you've landed in some bizarro-world, but they don't do anything _that_ strange."

"Hmm, Then I'm thinking I'll keep the car keys. It's a small town and really easy to walk anywhere. Or you can call a taxi. There's a nice walking path through and around town. But a word of advice. When crossing the street it's right-left-right. Be really careful! People around here are pretty tolerant of the tourists but every now and then some nut thinks he's the reincarnation of Machine Gun Joe and Americans score 300 points."

"Huh?" A tomato halfway to her mouth.

Slightly embarrassed, he just waved it off, "Never mind. Just be careful out there. Right-left-right." And promptly returned to catching up with her.

Her face drew down into a frown.

"What's up? Or down?"

"It's those questions again. What am I doing here? Why did this happen? I've got, like, a million questions, everything all spinning around. I don't know what to do! I mean, yeah, I said I'm managing--so far--but I'm just getting from one moment to the next! I don't know how long, or even if, I'll be able to keep it together!" She paused a moment, then went on much more quietly, with a small rueful smile, "I'm not in Kansas anymore, am I?"

"No," he answered softly, reaching across the table and taking her hand. "It's not. It's MunchkinLand, and I can be Toto, your faithful mutt." He groaned. "Okay, that was phenomenally lame. Even for me. But you know what I mean."

He played with the marmalade, spreading it slowly over his toast, and returned to a more serious tone. "It's important stuff, I get that. I really do. And I know I can't really understand what you're going through. But I know this. If you are in any way, shape, or form the Cordelia Chase I once knew, Queen C of Sunnydale High, LA demon hunter extraordinaire, then I know you're going to be just fine.

"Even if you're not feeling it now, you're strong, stronger than just about anybody I know. And I don't care how corny that sounded, it's the truth. And if that's not enough, then here's the real corny bit. As hard as this may be for you to believe given our history, if you need any help, _anything_ at all, I'll be there. Now, tomorrow, ten years from now, whenever."

He delivered his little speech with such a sincere and earnest dead-calm certainty that it brooked absolutely no contradiction in her mind. As sure as the sky was blue, he _would_ be there. She had no doubt.

She didn't attempt to express how grateful she was. And the issues of their aforementioned history still clouded her feelings toward him, though he hardly seemed the same person. And even though it was confusing with him, all the same she _was_ grateful for his presence. It was times like this, him saying anything stupid to cheer her up, or that simple honest and utter certainty of his, that made her think even Angel would not be as good to have around at this moment.

The remainder of the morning and early afternoon was quite an interesting experience for Xander. Even while dating they had never gone clothes shopping together. He had never seen anyone so fussy. She was very unimpressed with the choices in Sax and complained bitterly about how dowdy everything looked. They next tried the stores at Snape Maltings, a fashionable shopping establishment several miles away, where she did a little better but then complained she looked like some Hollywood director's idea of how an upper-crust British lady should look. She didn't stop her grousing until Xander promised a trip to London in the next day or two. And then it was time for Giles.

---

The dusty tome in his lap barely held Giles' attention as he sat behind a massive, ornately carved oak desk. Every few minutes or so he would look up at the mantle clock, sigh, and read some more. His meeting with Xander would be very soon and he very much wanted to discuss Xander's observations with regard to the matter he was now studying.

The lab people reported a new demon corpse in one of the refrigerated lockers, together with a note from Xander, which explained almost nothing but at least let Giles know he was back from his trip and apparently still alive, if not necessarily sound.

Right at the appointed time, just as the deep, soft chimes of the clock reverberated across the room, he heard a knocking on the door.

"Yes, come in, Xander!" he called out. Giles sat back in the leather chair, preparing to stand and greet Xander. The door opened slowly and Xander took a tentative step partway into the room, stopping with his body still partially obscured by the door.

"Xander! Yes, yes, do come in," Giles waved impatiently, "We've a lot to discuss, so let's be started!"

"More than you can imagine, Giles," Xander answered, advancing fully into the room, gently pulling a somewhat reluctant Cordelia after him.

"Hey, Giles." She waved her free hand, smiling uncertainly.

A moment passed as Giles eyes widened in surprise. His mouth moved several times without saying anything before a strangled, "Oh my!" forced its way out.

Giles' growing shocked expression was matched by the beaming smile spreading across Cordelia's face as she took in the tall, father-like figure from her high-school days.

"It's good to see you again!" she said, coming around to embrace him.

"Oh, my God!" he repeated as he fell back into the overstuffed chair still behind him.

* * *

**AN**: Okay, there doesn't seem to be much of a plot. Yet. But rest assured I do have something in mind (a few tiny hints were given) and how Xander and Cordelia end up. Unfortunately it will be awhile getting there, though hopefully I'll be updating more frequently. 

For the record (and the non-British among you), Saxmundham really exists, pretty much where and how described. Fifteen years ago I got a chance to spend a wonderful week enjoying Sax hospitality and thought it would be kinda neat to include it in a story.


	3. We Represent

**Summary**: A reunion and preparing to leave again. 

**Spoilers**: Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA

**Rating**: Minor language.

**Disclaimer**: Twentieth Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, and all other copyright holders, own the rights to their respective works and characters. I receive no compensation for this work, nor is there any intent to deprive the owners of their rightful due.

**AN**: Lot's of exposition, very little action, I'm afraid. But some things just need to be said.

* * *

**Part 3: We Represent...**

"Hey, that was my reaction too!" Xander exclaimed before sheepishly adding, "but I wasn't nearly so polite about it. And I didn't have the cushy chair to fall on either," he finally grumped.

Giles gave Xander a brief annoyed glance then brought his hand up to rub his forehead, which at the same time blocked his view of the presumed dead girl. Cordelia had stopped short when Giles fell back, unsuccessfully hiding an bemused expression. A flummoxed Giles is a beautiful sight to behold.

"I-is it really...?" Giles stammered to a halt, peeking around his hand.

Cordelia, beaming, answered, "It really is!"

Giles was observant enough to know she couldn't be The First, as Xander had been holding her hand. And being daytime made it highly improbable she was a vampire. But, but...

He succumbed to a compulsive need to clean his glasses. Something, anything, to focus on while he tried to put order to suddenly incoherent thoughts.

Seconds silently passed as Cordelia looked back uncertainly at Xander. Xander coughed politely, causing Giles to jump slightly. He looked up from his pointless cleaning task and, finally remembering his manners, stood and stepped forward to greet Cordelia. He hesitated then, quite unsure just how to greet this woman before him he had not seen in so many years, this woman he never expected to see again. He initially made as if to shake her hand and took one more awkward halting half-step forward.

"Giles!" Cordelia laughed as she closed the space between them and wrapped up the older gentleman in a joyful embrace. At first Giles stood stock-still in the unexpected familiarity before he relaxed and gently patted her back.

Xander rocked back on his heels and enjoyed the uncharacteristic show of affection from the often reserved and usually stiffly polite Head Watcher. Now somewhat embarrassed Giles finally pulled back, but still gently held her hands in each of his, shaking them slightly as though he still needed convincing this was not an apparition before him.

"This is quite...unexpected."

"Can you believe this guy's the Council head honcho?"

Giles turned to glare at Xander but Cordelia easily caught the tiniest quirk of an affectionate smile pulling on the corners of his mouth when he turned back to her.

"It's so good to see you again, Giles!" Even during her estrangement with the rest of the Scooby gang the latter half of senior year, Giles had remained someone she could still talk to, cherishing his gentle avuncular manner, with his easy tolerance of her no matter how bitchy she was toward his other charges. He was one of the very few reasons she had had the sense there was still a home for her in Sunnydale after she left.

"We thought you were dead!"

She replied with a friendly mocking smile, "So did I!"

"And you're really Cordelia?" he asked again, shaking her arms once more.

"Senile already, are you?" finally showing a touch of irritation with his denseness.

"Ah yes, you are indeed Cordelia," he was forced to agree with a smile. "But how? Wait! Before you begin," Giles raised a finger to halt her explanation. He circled around the desk, opened the office door and leaned out. "Mrs. Darby, please hold all calls and cancel everything I have this afternoon. I don't wish to be disturbed under _any_ circumstances."

Xander and Cordelia heard the muffled reply but couldn't make out the words Giles' assistant said.

"Yes, yes, if there's an apocalypse, then of course, by all means."

He came back in shaking his head and bade them all to sit.

"This happened yesterday, you say?" he asked of Xander while returning to the front of the desk and leaning on it, unabashedly staring at Cordelia, completely entranced.

"Yeah, at Stonehenge. I was walking around, y'know, minding my own business, and then ZAP!" clapping his hands together, making both Cordelia and Giles start, "I get an inside view of a thunder bolt. Very enlightening." Xander was utterly oblivious to his companion's reactions, both of whom groaned and rolled their eyes. "And there--"

"Hold on a moment," Giles held up his hand to forestall Xander's explanation. He reached back into a drawer, withdrew a leather-bound notebook and took the pen that had been lying on his desk. "Okay, go on," furiously scribbling notes as Xander continued his story.

"--she was, lying on the ground in a hospital gown. Not much else to it."

"At Stonehenge, hmm?" Giles echoed, tapping the pen against his chin. He got to his feet again and stepped over to a large cabinet opposite the fireplace and opened one of the drawers. He rifled through several rolled up sheaves, pulling out each one in turn and fussing with it before moving to the next. Xander and Cordelia shared a look, a smile, and a shrug while they waited for him.

Giles finally grunted in satisfaction and brought a large roll back to the desk. As he started to unfurl it Xander got up and helped pin down the corners with various heavy objects from off the desktop. They were soon looking down at a large-scale plan of Stonehenge, much more detailed than anything available to tourists.

"Where were you when the lightening hit?"

Xander leaned in for a better look at the map and to orient himself. Cordelia stood up to get a better view as well, curious, but otherwise remained silent.

"Here," Xander pointed to a place on the chart near the Heel Stone. Giles carefully noted the location in the journal and put a slight tick on the chart itself.

"And where did you find Cordelia?"

"Over here," indicating the other side of the Heel Stone, at a spot directly on a line joining the stone with the center of the main circle.

"And what time was it?"

"Around five-thirty or six, I think."

Giles continued his interrogation of Xander, getting every detail he could extract, carefully noting them in the pages of his book.

"And Cordelia, describe to me in as much detail as you can what you saw and felt. Can you start from when you were last with Angel?"

Cordelia repeated the story she had given Xander the night before, along with some additional details that she now recalled. When she finished Giles looked back through his notes to find a point he wanted to clarify. "So it seemed to you only a few moments passed after leaving Angel and arriving here?

"Right, I stepped through Angel's office door and everything went black for about a second or two. It was cold. The next moment I'm still cold, but I'm also lying on the ground getting wet. Then this freak," pointing at Xander, "attacks me."

Giles ignored Xander's indignant 'hey' as he asked his next question. "And yet what we believe we know is that you did in fact die, in the hospital, over a year ago. That it was an astral projection of yourself present at the Wolfram & Hart offices." He paused in thought. "Were you wearing the gown when you were in Angel's office?"

"Nope," she answered with a shake of her head.

"And you never had the feeling you lost conscience?"

"No, but how can I really tell?"

"Hmm, good point." He stopped writing and stared at his notes, pondering something.

"What are you thinking, oh knower of all things strange," asked Xander.

"Angel said she died, and I believe he thought he was telling us the truth. We've also reviewed the hospital records and they list the cause of death as heart failure, but..."

"But what!"

"It's just a theory, but..." he began to scratch his temple, "how do we know she really died?"

Xander did a double-take and returned a goggle-eyed, stupefied look, waving his hand around aimlessly, "But, but..."

Cordelia didn't say anything as she sat back, her face relaxing into a thoughtful look.

"Either she was revived from death, from oblivion, body and soul--something that is supremely difficult to accomplish, requiring an immense concentration of dark magics--or she never died."

"Or how about a miracle. A miracle happened here!"

"Xander!"

"Just a theory."

Cordelia asked, "Then how do you explain everything that happened? How else did I get here?"

"It's so much easier, and requires much less magic, to merely pass you through a portal and back. Yes, yes," Giles literally bounced with excitement as he warmed up to his pet theory, thinking aloud as he waded through the possibilities. "You only have to tap into existing energy to open a portal. That's much less than it takes to revive the deceased, to restore their body and rejoin the soul."

By this time Xander had overcome his initial shock at the seeming absurdity of the idea and began to agree with it. But he thought he saw a hole in Giles' theory. "So if Cordy was transported here, then what was left at the hospital?"

"A fake. A clone perhaps. Something enough like her to fool the doctors and medical examiners. They would have no reason to suspect any foul play or anything else untoward. How carefully would they recheck the identity of a body they believed they identified?"

Suddenly Cordelia shook her head firmly, indicating her denial, "No, no, no. That's not right. The whole time I was at Angel's I knew _my_ body was really back in the hospital, dead."

"And how is that, exactly?" Giles inquired, watching Cordelia intently.

"Well, um...the Powers told me?" She fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze.

"One of these powers appeared before you and said, 'Cordelia, you're dead'?"

"Not like that exactly," now very less sure of the ground she was standing on.

"Then how? Exactly?"

"It was a-a-a certainty. Something I just knew! And I knew it was from the Powers That Be."

Giles expressed his doubts with a slight pursing of his lips. "Even assuming what you say, have the Powers always dealt with you in a straightforward and trustworthy manner?"

She paused as she thought back on her years as Angel's 'Vision Girl' and the pain and torment she endured, especially in the last year. She also recalled what Angel had told her of Skip's involvement in Jasmine's scheme. With a sigh she conceded Giles' point, "No. They haven't."

"If I'm correct, I surmise that you were put into a reality where time runs differently than ours. Not unlike what Buffy experienced one time. That could explain why it seemed to you only a moment passed."

"But," Xander interrupted, "in that one, time ran much faster. She said hours passed for her while only a few seconds for the rest of us."

Giles turned to answer Xander's question, "There's no reason to believe our reality is somehow special in that regard. It's likely some realities run slower than ours. Perhaps the one she was in."

Both Xander and Cordelia sat back as they tried to absorb Giles' notion. Then Xander got a strange expression, like he was tasting something unpleasant, sour and bitter at the same time.

"What is it, Xander?" asked Giles.

"You're guessing that a fake Cordy was left behind in the hospital as the real Cordy was brought here, right?"

Giles nodded his head. "Yes. But I'll remind you it's only a theory."

"Okay, fine. Then how do we know it's not the other way around? That the real Cordelia _did_ die in the hospital, and that this," pointing at the girl next to him, "is a fake."

"Xander! Of cour--" Giles' immediate outrage was stopped outright by the obvious truth of Xander's suggestion. He sat back, at a loss for what to say or think next. After a long moment he looked over at Cordelia to give her another appraisal.

"I'm as likely to be a clone as you are to have a brain: not a chance!" The glower she directed at Xander should have turned him into a puddle of sniveling whimpering geekboy-goo. Years ago it might have.

"Well, you sound a lot like you, I'll give you that. But how can we be sure? Really sure?"

She opened her mouth to fire back another answer at Xander but stopped with her mouth halfway open. She had no answer for that.

Long awkward moments passed as they contemplated the rather depressing possibility. Then Giles suddenly looked very pleased with himself. "Well," Giles started as he turned to face Cordelia, "We can arrange to have you examined by the coven, if you don't mind. They can perform a revelation spell on you t-to, ah, to 'reveal' the true essence of your aura."

"No way I'm gonna let some freaky witches strap me down and poke me with chicken feet and baby bones. You can forget that idea before it even gets to the launching pad."

Giles chuckled gently at Cordelia's ignorance. "No, no, it's nothing like that. You just sit quietly for a few moments while they cast the spell. There's a little bit of smelly smoke but they never have to touch you. It's actually quite relaxing in fact. Just don't wear anything you value, the smell can be quite difficult to get out of clothing."

Cordelia was visibly relieved. "And no singing either?"

A confused Giles replied, "Ah, no-o-o-o. Though I do believe Xander was humming 'Smoke on the Water' when it was his turn."

"Figures. Well, in that case, okay. When do I do it?"

"I'll give them a call and get the arrangements started. There are a few things they need to prepare. In a day or two I should think."

"Okay, the Mr. Science show is fine and dandy, and the super-powered mind bender is all set," said Xander, "but either way, transferred through dimensions, or brought back from the dead, how can we tell what's going on? Who did it and why? And is it coincidence or not that I happened to be at the exact spot and time when she, or whatever it is--oww!--showed up?" He rubbed his shoulder where Cordelia had landed a very solid punch.

"Are you two done playing around?" They nodded. "Those are excellent questions. Who did it, why, and how exactly did they do it? I suspect having the answer to any of those could lead us very quickly to the answers to the others. We've already gone over some possibilities for the 'how' but don't really know for certain. As for the who and the why..." Giles tossed up his arms. "Well, let's start with who we know has the power to bring back the dead, or open portals?" He carefully left off the Cordelia-is-a-clone possibility.

"The Powers," was Cordelia's immediate suggestion.

"Yes, they're certainly a prime candidate." Giles nodded his head.

"The First?" asked Xander.

"Possibly. Though The First could only recreate images of the deceased. It had to work through other agencies to accomplish anything. But yes, The First might have the power."

Xander started snapping his fingers, shaking his head, "No, no! Wait, wait a minute! Didn't The First also bring back Angel from that Hell dimension?"

"Yes, you're right Xander! Good, excellent. The First _does_ have the ability to move beings through dimensions." He added the information to his list of candidates.

Giles continued to add notes as the others sat furiously thinking of more possible candidates.

"Willow," quietly added Xander after a few moments. Giles paused and frowned, then nodded his head and added her name as well.

Getting into the spirit, Cordelia came up with, "Wolfram & Hart." When Giles and Xander looked at her with questioning expressions, she added, "They brought back Darla. A human Darla."

They discussed various ideas awhile longer before Giles said, "This is all an excellent start. But to confirm or deny our suspicions we need to get down to some hard facts. We really should resear--"

"You finish that word and I'm gonna burn down your library." Xander half joked, half threatened.

"--look into it very carefully, very thoroughly." Giles finished with a childish smirk.

Xander threw up his hands in exasperation. Cordelia watched with detached amusement the little interplay between the two generations.

Grinning at Xander's defeat in this round of their little game, Giles announced, "Let's put this aside for now and move on. Now, what of this demon you left in the morgue last night. I have the initial autopsy report here," he rolled up the Stonehenge chart and shuffled through stacks of papers, producing a slim folder. Opening it, he took out the note Xander had left behind. "You say you encountered this near your flat? This is highly unusual."

"I don't know. If I didn't know better I'd swear it was waiting for us."

"An ambush?"

"Yeah. But how could it know when I'd be getting home. And why me? "

"I wouldn't underestimate your importance, but is it possible it was after Cordelia?"

"Even less likely. How would it know she was with me?"

"I don't know, but let's not exclude the possibility." He flipped slowly through the few pages of the report. "You did very well to kill it." He didn't bother to mention the heart-attack he nearly suffered when he realized Xander had again taken on another demon by himself. "It's a MacDonald's Demon, known to be very tough, very resilient, if rather stupid and single minded."

"A McDonald's Demon? I can tell you flat out this was no Big Mac with legs."

"MacDonald was the Scotsman who first observed this kind of demon in..." he glanced back through the report summary, "the fifteenth century. Of course, they've probably been around a lot earlier than that; MacDonald was just the first to survive and record the encounter. Some more information has been discovered since that time, but it's sketchy. They usually work for some other demon, don't have much initiative of their own, and are very loyal. A good job killing it," Giles gave an approving nod to Xander.

"In fact it nearly killed me," Xander admitted before hooking his thumb at Cordelia. "Cordy's the one who killed it."

"Cordelia! Really?" eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"And most sincerely. She's good in a fight, Giles."

Giles backpedaled as best he could, "I-I-I didn't mean to imply--"

"Except that you did, Mr. Tactful."

"Er, yes. Well. Good job." He picked up some of the scattered folders and papers and began to shuffle them together, studiously avoiding eye contact with Cordelia.

The mantle clock chimed five times at that moment, causing everyone to stop, yawn and stretch. Giles looked from his watch and back to the clock and then held his watch up to his ear, shaking it.

"Told you to get an electric. They're the in thing these days," ribbed Xander.

"Yes you have. Rather tirelessly. Would either of you care for tea or coffee, and something to eat?"

They agreed and Giles called down to have afternoon tea served. Clasping his hands in front of him on the desk and emitting a wistful sigh, he explained, "In many ways I still think of California as home, but you colonists never got afternoon tea right. If for that reason alone we shall _never_ relocate to Cleveland."

While they waited for the tea and refreshments they chatted amiably about various inconsequential topics. Giles gave Cordelia a short history of the building they were in, explaining that it originally started as a school for girls, then underwent several transformations as it changed owners before finally being bought from a software firm that had gone under in the last recession. It had now come full circle and was once again a training facility for girls, though of the super-powered variety this go-around, and also for those men and women destined to be watchers.

"Well, that was quite a re-introduction. Is that everything?"

"Yeah, one more thing. She's really spooked about what little mystical surprise Easter Eggs she might be carrying. What can we do about that?"

"Ah, yes. Jasmine." He turned to face Cordelia, "The coven's examination will take care of that easily. If there is any aspect of you that is _not_ Cordelia Chase we'll know."

Cordelia was mollified by Giles' explanation and nodded her thanks and appreciation.

"That takes care of past and present. Now for the future. Do you know what you want to do at this time, Cordelia? Xander's already told me he guaranteed we would help you get to wherever you want or provide whatever you need. I will reaffirm that. Anything you need, anywhere you want to go, just let us know."

"Thank you, Giles, that means a lot to me."

"So that's settled. Who else knows you're back?"

"Just the two of you."

"Do you want us to let the others know, or would you prefer to handle that yourself?"

"I guess I should let Angel and the team know."

"Err...ahh, yes, we have Angel's number. Lorne's as well, if you wish to inform him also.

"Well yeah, but I guess _everybody_ should know, right?"

Giles eyebrows knit in confusion. "Everybody?" he asked with a frown. "Buffy? Willow? Yes of course, they would be ecstatic to hear the good news."

"Them too. But I meant Wes. Gunn and Fred. Duh, the _whole_ gang."

"Oh," he sat back, non-plussed by Cordelia's simple statement. "I see. Ahh..." Giles trailed off as he cast an odd look, half accusing and half worried, at Xander. "You didn't tell her, Xander?"

Xander squirmed guiltily, "No, I wasn't sure how to bring it up. I only mentioned Sunnydale."

"That's all?" Giles started to admonish the younger man, "Xander, don--"

"Tell me what?"

"She's going through enough as it is!"

Xander's heated response overrode Cordelia question and she repeated it more forcefully. "Tell me what?" she demanded again.

Giles was beginning to get emotional as well, raising his voice. "Don't you think Cordelia has the right to kn--"

"I wasn't trying to hide anything," Xander fired back, "just waiting for a better time!"

Cordelia jumped to her feet, interposing herself between the two quarreling men. "TELL ME WHAT!"

Giles and Xander stared at each other for an ominously quiet moment then around the office, anywhere but at Cordelia. She glared at Xander and then Giles and back again, anger building.

Giles' tone became gentle again, compassionate, "There's never going to be a good time, Xander." He paused while Xander just nodded his head in defeat. "I can tell her, if you'd prefer."

"Somebody better start talking. And I mean right. The hell. Now!" Her eyes blazed with a blistering fury as she glared down at the two men.

"No," Xander answered in a low voice, "I got it." He took two deep breaths before addressing Cordelia directly, making sure he had her attention. "You'd better sit back down, Cordy."

She maintained her defiant stance, refusing to be pushed around by him. But his grim, sorrowful expression didn't change as he unflinchingly held her gaze. A dark pit began to open up in her mind, sensing something truly awful, and she slowly sat.

Xander wiped a hand down his face, pulling on his chin, before continuing, "Listen to me, Cordy. A lot of things have happened in the last couple of years. Most of them not good--well, if you don't count saving the Earth from eternal hell or destruction several times over. But it's happened with a price. A very big price."

Suddenly recalling the photo of Anya in Xander's flat she began to suspect what the price just might be. The bulwark foundation of her anger collapsed completely. "What's going on, Xander! " she pleaded, almost begging, "Please, just tell me."

"Okay", he started again, then got up and paced in front of her, "you already know about Sunnydale." He stopped directly in front of her, dropping down to kneel and taking her hands in his. Drawing in another deep and ragged breath he resumed, speaking slowly and deliberately, making sure Cordelia understood every word. "Cordelia, all your friends, Wesley, Fred, Gunn, everyone but Angel and Lorne, are gone." He rushed his next words, "Angel's still in LA, with someone called Illyria. Lorne we know has relocated to Las Vegas. But everyone else is...dead." he finished sadly.

It was far worse than she'd imagined it could be. "No!" she cried out. This couldn't be right! "Oh God no!" She couldn't, wouldn't, believe it. "No, no, no, nononono." Through suddenly tear-filled eyes she looked up at Xander's unwavering expression of sorrow and compassion and knew the sincerity of his words, incapable of denying their horrible truth.

She felt herself begin to curl into a fetal position and allowed herself to succumb to the grief as she stuffed her fist into her mouth, biting down hard to keep from screaming. The tightness in her heart spread throughout her body and she felt out of breath, unable to draw in any more air, like someone had punched her in the gut.

She rocked back and forth in the chair as hazy memories of her friends--No! not friends. _Family!_--swam before her. The gentle Fred, so kind, innocent and curious, her thirst for knowledge rivaled only by her lust for tacos. Gunn, the man with the muscles, attitude and brains to wrestle life into submission.

And Wesley! Poor Wesley. She felt most deeply for him. So often his life was one tragedy after another, his fleeting moments of glory so few and far between, too frequently ignored or abandoned by all those around him. But he had always held firm to his convictions, making the tough, necessary decisions few others, even Angel sometimes, were willing to make.

Xander moved closer to her and pulled her into a hug, just cradling and gently soothing her, not spouting any inane platitudes about how everything was going to be okay. She was immensely grateful. She didn't need or want platitudes, or wisdom, or false sympathy. She just needed to know someone cared and would be there for her.

"H-h-how?" she croaked past the fist she was still biting on, eyes closed tight but still unable to prevent the tears from leaking out.

Still holding her, Xander answered, "There was a big fight in LA. Neither of us were there, but I've read the after-battle reports. I talked to a few people who were there. We've spoken with Lorne. Eventually I even talked to Angel."

She could only motion for him to continue. Xander looked over at Giles, who nodded.

"From what we've pieced together, mostly information from Lorne, is that Angel set up a showdown between himself and something called the Black Thorn. Somehow, as a result of that, an army of demons swarmed into LA to destroy your friends. We, that is, Willow mostly--but some other powerful witches, too--had been getting signs of huge amounts of magic energy gathering, centering on LA. We think that was a side-effect of the Black Thorn's preparations."

Giles picked up where Xander left off.

"We managed to get the nearby Slayers into the fight near the beginning. And Willow and a few others from the coven teleported in. It was still a very close thing."

"Wes? The others?" she uttered in a barely audible anguished whisper. Xander loosened his hold on her but kept one arm draped around her shoulders. She pressed into him while listening to Giles' answer.

"That's where things are a little confusing. Lorne told us your friend Fred had died before the whole thing began, but otherwise refused to talk to us about it and would say no more. What little we could get from Angel didn't add anything. We think somehow this Illyria is involved in that.

"As for Wesley...we just simply don't know. Angel and Lorne both agreed he was alive that morning, but they never saw him again. We never found his body. Gunn's body was found near that hotel you used to have."

"There are a few more details, some conflicting information. Someone said something about Spike, but I think they were just very confused. It's relatively unimportant. I'm very sorry, Cordelia. I know you were very close to them." Giles came over and put his hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze of sympathy. She put her hand over the heavy weight and warmth of his hand, drawing in the strength and comfort needed. And indeed it did seem to help her and she nodded and smiled her appreciation to both men.

Xander had wanted to avoid being the bearer of such awful news, knowing what it would do to her, knowing it was inevitable. He had not been surprised by her reaction, the shock and the grief. The very real pain. He knew how empty and alone she must be feeling at this moment, to want to give into the desire to curl up and make the horrible, painful world go away, if for just a little while.

Neither was he surprised at the rapidity of her recovery as he felt the strength and determination flow back into her. With a final nod of gratitude she allowed him to let go. As he watched her he marveled again at the evidence of her resolve and fortitude. She would mourn again later, perhaps even hysterically, but only when the time and circumstances allowed. She was a fighter and for the necessities of the here and now she was going to be ready.

"It's been a hell of an afternoon, maybe we should call it a day?"

"A good idea, Xander. I'm sure we have plenty of spare rooms for her."

"She stayed at my place last night. I figure she can just keep on staying there. If she wants."

She nodded at his implied question.

As they stood to leave, Giles said, "Yes, whatever you think is best." Giles nodded to Xander and then addressed Cordelia, "You've had quite an unpleasant shock today, my dear, and you have my deepest sympathy." She approached him and this time he didn't hesitate in giving her a gentle hug of comfort. "Anything I can do for you, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask. But I'm sure Xander will agree with me when I say that you have been greatly missed and we are most extraordinarily pleased to have you back." he finished with a last tightening of his embrace before releasing her.

Just as Xander and Cordelia were about to take their leave of Giles he called out, "And Xander, we can go over you observations of the Well sometime later."

Cordelia looked at the two of them curiously, still sniffling a bit, as Xander answered, "Sure thing, Giles. Swing by early tomorrow?"

Giles nodded his assent as Xander turned with Cordelia, putting his hand on the small of her back. Giles watched them very carefully as Xander guided her out of the office and down the hall.

"What was that all about?" asked Cordelia as they walked side by side down the hallway.

"What was what all about?"

"Tomorrow."

After huffing a small sigh he answered, "A consequence we have to deal with."

---

A few days later, at five past eight in the morning, both Xander and Cordelia entered Giles' office.

"Cordelia!" Giles exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Just tagging along."

Giles looked over at Xander, who appeared unconcerned about her presence. "You're welcome to join us, of course. But I don't think you'll find this all that interesting."

"Yeah, probably." She waved her hand dismissively. "Even still."

"Yes, well then, um..." He fiddled about for a moment, straightening various objects on the desk, moving a pen to a minutely more pleasing position, before turning to address Xander directly, "Let me first summarize what you've told us and what we've been able to find out here in the last few days.

"There's still no sign of a Guardian yet and The Deeper Well appears to be completely abandoned. There is significant deterioration around the tombs of many of the Old Ones. And it's getting worse."

With no warning at all Cordelia began to get a soft buzzing sensation in her back of her neck at the mention of The Deeper Well. It wasn't enough to be actually annoying but it slowly increased in intensity as it changed to a pleasant tingle slowly crawling up from the nape of her neck and across her head. She looked over at Xander to see if he had noticed anything or was reacting in some strange way.

Xander was merely nodding his head in time with Giles' recitation of facts he already knew.

Giles flipped open the folder in front of him. "Our research here was finally fruitful. One of the bits of information you found gave us a lead on a valuable text. We've managed to turn up a volume, 'd'Ory's Annotations and Commentaries', that has a small portion on the history of the Well and the Guardian's role. It explains much of what you saw, and your observations help confirm the veracity of the accounts.

"It seems the Guardian, or Keeper as he is also know, is much more than just a caretaker, or even a guard dog, protecting The Well against unwanted intruders. He also provides the focus for the energy that maintains the integrity of the tombs in the Well. Without him the power is too diffuse. It doesn't happen overnight, but without the Guardian slowly, gradually, the coffins will become completely unstable and open up at the slightest disturbance." Giles hunched forward and gave the younger man his most earnest attention. "Xander, this is important. If the Old Ones get out, then the human race is in very serious trouble."

Xander couldn't help himself in the face of Giles' seriousness, "Just very serious? Not very _very_ serious?"

"Xander!" Giles scolded.

Xander raised his hand and nodded his head to stop the impending lecture. "How long before things start really breaking apart?"

"The text isn't specific. It only gives us a time scale: on the order of a number of months, perhaps as long as a few years."

"And Drogyn was killed about a year ago...," Xander mused, "so for all we know this could go ka-bloey any day now."

"Not the technical term I would use for it, but essentially, yes. It is imperative we find another Guardian!"

"And these comments tell us how?"

Giles frowned. "Unfortunately, not exactly. But there is one passage that references a ritual the previous guardian performs to pass on the sacred duty to his successor. It's not clear if this also works when there is no predecessor."

"But it's a place to start?"

"Agreed. It's the best we have so far."

"Great! Fire up the candles, spread the salt and flower petals, chant some gibberish, sacrifice a Blue Oyster Cult album, and we're home free!" Xander clapped his hands.

Both Cordelia and Giles shook their heads at Xander's clowning.

"I said the text only references the ritual and tells us its purpose. It doesn't describe it in any useful detail. We have been so far unsuccessful in finding a description."

"So we're hosed?"

"Perhaps not. It does say the ritual is performed in a hidden location in The Well and that there is a stone, or perhaps on the cave wall, that the ritual _is_ fully outlined. And it gives one clue on how to find it. We need to find something called the..." he looked down at the notes he and his team had assembled, "Via Aurum." At Xander's raised eyebrow, he added the translation, "Street of Gold, or The Golden Way. In context I don't believe it's an actual road but more of a marked pathway. One that will lead us to the location."

"The Golden Way? Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?"

"Er, no, I don't believe so?" Giles was perplexed. "Why?"

"Um, never mind," Xander waved it off. "Okay, so we find this path of yours, follow it and we're there. Then we do the mojo hoe-down?"

"I wish it were so simple. Not just anyone can become a guardian. The person has to prove himself worthy of the honor. It's an honor to even be able to reach the site where the ritual is performed. The builders of The Well made the path a very difficult one, with many traps and dangers to keep out the demons and the unworthy."

Xander sighed. "Same old same old. Do we have anything else on this path?"

"That's the good news. I believe you've already found the beginning of the path. You said you thought you saw what appeared to be a flash of gold near one of the tombs. I believe that may be one of the markers, perhaps the very first one.

"This is critical, Xander. We have to go back. We have to find the ritual and perform it. We need to endow a new Guardian before it's too late. We're going to go back in force, with a contingent of slayers. We're, umm, mounting an...expedition, I guess you might say. Are you up to it?"

"Sure thing," Xander answered casually.

"I don't know how long we'll be gone or even where we might end up. And the dangers we'll be facing are--"

"Giles! I'm there, don't worry!"

Giles turned his attention to the other person in the room, "Cordelia?"

She had been deeply immersed in her own thoughts as she tried to figure out the cause of the sensation that ebbed and flowed with the conversation between the other two. It was just now beginning to fade away as she tried to mentally grasp at it, not hearing Giles the first time.

"Cordelia!"

"Hmm?" She brought her head up sharply. "Yes, Giles?"

"It's only been a few days, and I know things must still be terribly confusing and traumatic, but I have to ask you. Do you know what you want to do at this point?"

The last few days had indeed been very difficult for her. She was still getting used to living as a free person again, finally out from under the mental imprisonment of Jasmine, which in her personal time line was still in the very recent past. She hadn't called Angel or Lorne yet, her present grief being difficult enough to handle without the reminders of lost family those conversations would engender. She wasn't even sure when she would call them. Thinking about the future just caused her to feel how empty it was going to be with so much lost family and friends, Xander and Giles not withstanding.

"I've been trying not to think about that too much," Cordelia admitted with a sad smile.

Giles chuckled sympathetically. "I think I can understand that. Still, would you like us to send you back to the United States? You won't have to be involved in any of this. Or us."

"I--", the fading sensation suddenly strengthened and morphed into something almost unpleasant at the thought of returning home. "I...don't think so." As she said that the unpleasantness dissipated. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Perhaps somewhere in Europe, then? Or elsewhere?"

"No." she replied. "I think I would like to stay here with you. If you don't mind?"

"Of course not. There is lots of work to be done around here. Or you could just relax and enjoy our hospitality. We will make funds available to you and you can stay as long or as short as you like."

"What about going on this expedition thingy?"

Giles was a bit surprised, Xander much more so in a disapproving sort of way and said, "I don't think that's a good idea, Cordy. Jumping right back into the fire so soon..."

"I think I _need_ to be doing this," Cordelia said with an almost doubtful shake of her head. As soon as she said that the odd feeling changed again and became more concentrated, becoming a crystalline sense of purpose that she _must_ go to the Well.

"Cordy, this is really not something you need to be involved with," Xander protested.

Cordelia couldn't adequately explain to herself what had been happening to just now, and certainly wouldn't be able to explain it to Giles or Xander, and so didn't even try. But she knew with an absolutely certainty that she had to go.

"I'm going."

"Cordy--"

"Shove it, Xander!" There was fire in her eyes as she locked gazes with Xander, daring him to make any more objections. He opened his mouth to make another protest, biting it back when Cordelia arched her eyebrow in challenge. "Besides," she smirked, "you need someone to watch your back. And I'm good in a fight, you said so yourself."

Xander continued to express his doubts as they huddled together and drew up a more detailed plan.

---

Later that evening Giles spotted Cordelia walking outside, near the gardens behind the Council house. At that moment Xander was engaged with the weapons people in the basement--the "Q" department as Xander liked to call them--and Giles very much wanted to speak with Cordelia alone and away from Xander.

He quickly made his way out of the office, through the confining hallways and steep stairs in time to catch Cordelia already on her way back in. He angled over to intercept her.

"Cordelia, might I have word with you? Just for a few moments?"

"Of course, Giles," she smiled in greeting.

Giles extended his hand back in the direction of the gardens, indicating a path between some rose bushes, "Let's walk for a bit, shall we? It can get rather stuffy inside and I suddenly feel the need for some fresh air." Having said that Giles then remained silent while they made their way along the path and away from the house. Cordelia quirked her eyebrow in curiosity, wondering why he wanted to talk to her now, but waited for Giles to find his own time to speak.

When they reached a bench he sat down and patted the spot next to him, bidding her do the same. While looking back at the old brick structure Giles leaned back and clasped his hands around his upraised knee. "I'm very pleased you want to go, Cordelia."

"Oh?" Cordelia noted that he'd waited until they were well out of earshot of anyone who might be strolling around the house. She noted their location gave them an expansive view of the estate and would easily allow them to see if anyone was nearby or approaching.

"You may have only been teasing Xander, but you were more right than you might have guessed."

"About what?" she asked.

Giles squinted his eyes and looked away again into the bright horizon, uncertainly scuffing his shoe across the flagstone. "Did Xander ever tell you what he was doing in Africa?" he softly asked, still gazing at nothing.

"He mentioned it. He was finding all those new slayers Willow's spell created; helping to train them, introducing them to 'The Force'," she borrowed Xander's euphemism, "that sort of thing. He didn't go into a lot of detail. I got the impression it was a little rough at times, but overall things were pretty good."

"Yes. Yes, that was his assignment. And he performed brilliantly. Far better than anybody expected. He was almost always successful finding the new slayer, and then convincing them of their true destiny, showing them how to deal with the inherit problems. He's helped train many, and many of them have been here. Some are here right now, in fact, finishing up their training."

"So what's the problem? I assume you're heaping all this praise on the big dork because you have a big 'but' coming right after."

"Because I don't think that was the real reason he was there. I mean, that was our reason for agreeing to send him there, but I don't believe that was his reason for wanting to go there. I think what he was really doing was, was..."

"What?" she said irritably, suddenly impatient with all of Giles' careful and polite circumlocutions.

He paused as he drew in a deep breath, marshaling his words. "I think he was committing suicide."

A stunned silence fell between them as Cordelia tried to process what she thought Giles had just said. "What!" Cordelia gasped loudly. "No, no way! Not Xander! He's...he's..."

Giles made calming gesture with his hands, as if trying to deny what he'd just said. "Alright, that's perhaps a bit of an overstatement."

"Ya' think?" she snapped back sarcastically.

"But not much of one, I fear. I am also certain he would never admit to such a thing. It's very likely he doesn't even realize it himself, not at any conscious level anyway." He turned to look directly at Cordelia, making sure he had her complete attention. "But at some very real level I think that's what he was doing."

After her initial outburst Cordelia was speechless, shaking her head slowly in disbelief.

"Over and over he would throw himself into the most highly dangerous situations, situations where even a troupe of slayers shouldn't go. We told him again and again to back off, that it wasn't worth it, or that we could get to it later. But he ignored us. We'd threaten to cut off his funding; he didn't care. How he's survived I'll never know. His usual dumb luck, I suppose." shrugging his shoulders. "You no doubt have noticed he's picked up a few more injuries since you last saw him?"

She waved her hand across the right side of her face and down her shoulder.

"Yes. We had just located a new slayer, in a remote area in Chad. With the preliminary information we gave him he began to look for her while we cross-referenced the location with current affairs. It turned out a very nasty civil dispute was flaring up in the area. We informed Xander to stay away, wait till things had calmed down, that as an obvious outsider he was going to be a target.

"He ignored us. He went in, found the girl, convinced her to come with him, and they headed out. As they passed through a crossroads they got caught in a firefight. Grenades and mortars dropped on the village. He was caught near one of the explosions while shielding the girl. The doctors at the hospital tell us he's very lucky to have survived."

"Oh," was all Cordelia could say.

"We have other reports, usually from the girls he was finding, similar to that, though not always with such dire results. In trying to keep the new slayer safe during training he took on demons he had no business fighting. We were only able to pull him out when we lied and told him there were no more girls to be found." He paused and looked at Cordelia before asking his next questions. "Did you know we didn't tell him about your 'death' until after he'd gotten back?"

"He said something about that. He's still pretty ticked off!"

"We had good reason. I am sure," Giles emphatically slashed his arm to drive the point home, "that if he'd found out while he was down there, he would have found some way to make sure his luck ran out. I am absolutely certain of that. We couldn't risk it." Cordelia glanced up at Giles at that moment. "_I_ couldn't risk it."

She nodded her head thoughtfully, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. She noted the care-worn features, the long-since graying hair, worry lines creasing his forehead. She had seen him be one of the fiercest and vicious people she'd ever laid eyes on when the occasion demanded. But she most often saw him as one of the kindest and most caring persons she'd ever met. She looked at him again in the diminishing sunlight, and the first word that came to mind was "Father".

"You love him, don't you?" putting words to her revelation.

Eyes widening in brief surprise, Giles stammered "I-I-," before turning away and considering more carefully, then turning back, "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do. I love all of you, really. And I know you've all been through such difficult times, having to grow up so fact, yourself especially. And every time one of you gets hurt Xander takes on the guilt. He takes risks so that others don't, even the ones who should be taking the risks. But he doesn't let on how he's doing, he keeps it well hidden. It's changing him, Cordelia. He's very cold and distant to most people, except the slayers he's brought out. He's become extremely autocratic, harsh and overbearing when he thinks someone is needlessly taking foolish risks. He can be quite unpleasant at times. But he never applies that standard to himself."

Cordelia took one of Giles' hands in hers, "I'm glad you told me, Giles. It explains a lot. But what has it got to do with me going tomorrow?"

"I need someone to...watch his back. To watch him. Someone who knows him, knows what to look for. Someone that can be trusted in a fight or in tough spot."

"And you think that's me?"

"I can't think of anyone better." He gave her a quick, confident smile. "I don't think you can be aware of everything that happened the other day. The Xander that walked into my office, holding your hand, was not the same Xander who left here several days before. I've never seen him so giddy, for lack of a better word." Giles gave a small embarrassed smile.

"_That_ was giddy!" she exclaimed.

"Compared to how he was before." He let that thought hang in the air for a few moments while she looked down and nibbled on her lip. "But let me warn you. He will try to prevent you from going."

"As if!" she gave a dismissive snort.

"I'm quite serious, Cordelia. Don't brush it off so easily. He can make it happen if he sets his mind to it."

"But you're the boss. Just tell him to let me come."

"I am, and I have. But this council does not operate how you might think it does. As Head Watcher I'm almost more of a figurehead in terms of actual authority. I can suggest things. I have considerable influence when persuading people. A few I can even order about. But not the slayers. Xander commands their respect and loyalty, especially the ones he had a direct hand in locating and training. If he tells them you're not going they will listen to him and, more likely than not, do what he says. No, you need to convince Xander himself."

She nodded her head thoughtfully.

Giles stood and gestured for her to stand as well. "Let's go back now."

They continued to talk as they slowly made their way back to the house.

---

Cordelia didn't know what had caused her to wake up, a sound from outside perhaps, but she had been sleeping only fitfully and didn't mind too much the wakefulness. She stared around the dark apartment, straining to hear the sound again. Cordelia swung her head around in response to a muffled clinking noise coming from the flat's small patio. She noticed a movement of black-gray shadows across the partially open drapes. Slipping on the robe she had recently purchased she lifted herself out of bed and padded toward the open door.

She saw Xander there, just outside the open doors of the patio, a dark nebulous shadow-on-shadow shape. He was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, leaning back against the door sill, with crossed legs stretched out all the way, his bare feet propped up on the patio railing.

In the dim moonlight he appeared to be wearing a ratty but comfortable looking tee-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. Steadying it with one hand, he balanced a bottle of half-consumed beer on his stomach.

One of the floorboards creaked when she shifted slightly to get a better view. Xander slowly turned his head from gazing out at the sky when he heard the noise behind him. "Hey, Cordy," he greeted softly, "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," and turned back to counting the stars or whatever he was doing before.

Cordelia shook her head, "No, that's okay, I was a little restless anyway." She glanced back at the digital clock and saw it was after two in the morning. "What are you doing up?"

"I like the quiet sometimes," he answered in a whisper, dropping his eye from the sky to the label on the bottle he held.

He had spoken so low she wasn't sure if she heard it right. It felt like he had rebuked her for disturbing him and was a little hurt by that. "Uh, I'll, uh...I'll just go back now."

As she was turning to leave he reached up and took her hand, "And I can like it just as much with you here." The rough warmth of his hand sent a shiver up her arm. She stopped, not sure what to do.

"It's okay if stay?"

"Yeah."

She went inside to retrieve another chair and placed it near him at an angle so she could easily see him by turning her head slightly. Xander watched as she set and positioned the chair on his blind side but then looked away after she sat, feeling if not actually seeing her presence.

When he didn't offer any more comment she looked out at the scene before her. She quickly realized it was a fantastically beautiful night, almost magical in the non-threatening way. The recent rains had cleaned the air, leaving a cool crisp clarity underlying the lingering springtime warmth. The nearly full moon illuminated the neighboring townhouses, homes and backyard gardens in shades of silver and charcoal and diamond sharp black shadows.

They sat that way in the quiet, only hearing each other breathing in the stillness, or the occasional creaks of the chairs as they shifted.

He knew she was still grieving for her lost friends, though by now--just a few days later--she appeared to be dealing with it remarkably well. That first day he'd done what he could to console her, mostly just a shoulder to cry on, later offering her sympathetic words. Yesterday he'd kept his promise to take her on a shopping trip to London, though he had refused to drive to and in London on the reasonable claim that roundabouts were purest evil on Earth. He had compromised by making them take the train.

Unconsciously he smiled as he remembered how Cordelia was virtually bouncing out of her shoes in child-like anticipation when the big black taxi arrived in front of Harrods. She jittered next to Xander in the entranceway while he fished out his wallet, withdrew a credit card, and made a big flowery display of presenting it before her. He told her of its wondrous magical abilities: "This here," he solemnly intoned, "is a Council credit card with virtually no limit." His severe expression immediately changed to a huge flashing smile, and with a twinkle in his eye he nodded toward the interior of the store, "Go nuts!"

She did.

It was a very tired but a very happy Cordelia, and an even more exhausted and grumbling Xander, who made their way back to his flat without incident other than Xander's occasional stumble under the weight of purchases.

The memories of her over the last few days flowed before his mind's eye in the few seconds they sat silent. Her grief and her sorrow, her joy and happiness. He realized at that moment the world was more complete with her presence, a far better place than it was before. _He_ was somehow more complete with her presence, whether or not she was physically near him. The unexpected realization of Cordelia's necessity hit him like a vampire's punch. At the same time it was a burden lifted from him. He knew he would not, in fact could not, allow harm to her anymore.

Xander arrived at a decision.

"I don't want you going," he announced into the darkness.

She had strongly suspected this showdown was coming and was ready for it, although she had originally planned on having it out with him later in the morning. After her conversation with Giles she believed she had a grasp on what Xander's motives were, but she needed to draw it out of him and confront it head on.

"Really? And just how are you going to stop me?" challenging him.

"Kinda simple. I say something like 'Cordelia, you're not going'. See?"

"That simple, huh?"

"Pretty much," he answered with a firm and decisive nod, still not having looked at her since his pronouncement.

"And you expect me to just agree?"

"Pretty much. Your agreement isn't actually required."

"This is just a little trip to a big hole in the ground." She decided to first try being reasonable and arguing her case on its own merits. "What's the big deal? We've got a whole gang of slayers to babysit us. And I can take care of myself. You know that."

He merely snorted, dismissing her arguments out of hand.

Even though she believed she understood his motives she still had to make a great effort to squelch her rising anger at his casual presumption that he could order her around.

"I _am_ going. You know I can handle it."

"So what if you can? It's not necessary for you to go and so you're not."

She decided to try another tack. "Look, Xander, I have this feeling, this absolute certain sense, like a message, that tells me I need to go. That you need me."

"Another mind message from the Powers?" he asked derisively.

"Could be."

"Yeah, and you shouldn't ignore it 'cause they're just so trustworthy."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I just know I'm going." She said with firm determination. This only drew another dismissive snort from Xander.

"What's this really all about, Xander? You haven't given me one good reason I shouldn't go."

He didn't answer right away, like the question had never been asked. They sat in the turbulent silence of their simmering emotions. The tension between them was becoming palpable. Xander rolled the bottle between his flat palms, his shoulder muscles bunching.

"It's not about anything except... you not going," he eventually stated.

Recalling something Giles had told her, Cordelia made an insightful guess and broached a new topic.

"Tell me about Anya."

His head snapped around to face her, thrown by the unexpected shift in conversation. Then he turned slowly away to look back out at the sky once more. "Not a lot to tell," he answered her in a monotone voice devoid of any remotely human emotion, "We were together for awhile. I proposed. I left her at the alter. She died." He raised the bottle to his lips and took a quick swallow.

Cordelia's anger flared up again at his non-answer. "Xander! You spent four years with the girl. You nearly married her. Don't you dare tell me there's not a lot to tell!"

His own ire rose in response, "I'm fairly sure you really don't want to hear about my so-called relationship with Anya. I'm also _damn_ sure I don't want to tell you."

Once more he glanced her way, noticing faint speckles of starlight glinting off her eyes. It startled him to see just how genuinely angry she was with him. He sighed. In a more placating tone he continued, "This is not a good idea, Cordy. I think you should drop it. Now."

"Drop what! That it's been two years and you've barely shed a tear. That you've marched on as if nothing ever happened? That you've already started to dig your own grave?"

Quickly twisting to face her, he nearly screamed, "How do you know that! Dammit, how can you know?"

"Giles told me."

He slumped back into his seat. "Pompous asshole should mind his own business," he said grumpily.

"He's worried about you. He cares about you. And that makes it his business. _I_ care about you and that makes it _my_ business," she softly informed him. Then she switched tactics and demanded, "So spill, mister."

"I said drop it!" he growled, menacing.

"You loved her?" she pressed.

He refused to answer and she prodded again, "Well? Did you?"

"Cordelia, I sa--"

"Did you!"

"Yes!" he exploded, "Yes, I loved her! Are you happy now! I loved Anya. I loved her so much it's tearing me apart." He brought the chair down with a thump and stood, tapping on his chest, "I have this hole, this ache, this-this screaming empty nothingness inside me. And it hurts! Oh God, it hurts so goddamn much. Every morning I wake up and I look over and she's not there. And it screams at me! Do you know why it screams? Do you see what my love got her!"

"Xander--"

"It got her dead! That's what I did to her. Oh," he flung his arm out carelessly, sloshing beer across the patio, "but not before I could crush her heart first. Destroy her happiest day." He looked down at the bottle in his hands with disgust and suddenly hauled back and threw it against the far wall of the patio, watching it shatter in a resounding crash of foam and pieces of brown glass.

"Oh no! No, I had to fuck over her life first," punching the air to emphasize the point. "_Then_ I got her dead, buried in a pile of rubble. And hey, not too much different from another girl I once loved, only you lived so you could get soul-raped by a higher being and then die just a little bit later!"

She blinked, "Xand--" She was unable to break through his unrelenting tirade of emotions.

"And now you want to go on this stupid trip and get dead again!" He forced himself to calm down somewhat. "See, I'm not the Zeppo, Cordelia. I've got a power. I hurt the people I love the most. I even get some of them dead. That's my power! It's best you stay away from me, Cordy. Everyone near me, everyone I care about, I just hurt them, I get them killed! You know it's true. After Anya you're exhibit A. And--"

"You loved me?" Tonight was the first time she had ever heard those words from Xander. All that time with him, so long ago, loving him and never knowing, always wondering, usually doubting, if he loved her back.

"--the gun." He hadn't heard her whispered question and barreled on, "I saw the gun and did nothing! I let him kill Tara! I saw Willow falling into the trap. My best friend in the whole world. I saw it! And I did nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing! Till it was almost too late. And Buffy! When she most needed our support I turned my back on her, ran her off."

After Xander's revelation Cordelia missed some of his raging self-incrimination, only able to latch on to one. "But she's _not_ dead. You saved her and saved the world."

"Saved the world? Hah! I used to believe that once. And maybe there's someone out there that looks and talks like Willow. But it's not MY Willow! It's _never_ been the same since then. Not with her, not with Buffy, not anyone." He suddenly went from a loud shouting voice to a whisper, the strength drawn from his despair and anger vanishing. "And Anya's gone. And then you."

His head dropped into his hands, muffling his next words. "I can't lose any more people, Cordy. It's killing me. You want to go but it's going to get you hurt, or worse. I can't do that again." He looked up at her, his eye glistening in the cold moonlight. "Cordy, can't you see that?" he begged, "I try to help, I really do. But all I ever do is hurt people, kill people. Can't you see that's all I've ever done to you?"

Between her inability to keep up with Xander's insane ranting and the idiocy of his words Cordelia had finally had enough. "Bullshit!"

Xander blinked rapidly for a moment. "What bullshit? You know it's true."

She gave him a hard look for several moments, allowing her anger to build again. "You're a real piece of work, you know that, Alexander Lavelle Harris? You're so goddamn full of yourself, so egotistical, you think you're to blame for everything that goes wrong around you? What, is inflation your fault too? You gonna take the blame for Ishtar and high-heeled sneakers next?"

Strangely exhausted he merely huffed, completely unconvinced.

She allowed herself to calm down as she came over to him slowly, sitting down on the arm of his chair. "I can't speak to everything Xander, only for myself. Xander, that's not all you've ever done to me."

He refused to look at her or even acknowledge that she'd said anything. She pressed on. "Yes, you've hurt me in ways I thought I could never get over at the time. That much is true." She reached down and took his hand in both of hers. "But mostly you were good. Good for me, good to me. You helped me change, to grow up. You showed me how to care, to feel what others feel, to understand what they need. To be brave even when there's no hope. I don't know what I would have become if not for you, but I don't think it's someone I would have liked. And it's not just me. You make the people around you better."

She stopped at that point when Xander turned to her and lifted his free hand to touch her face. Xander looked at her very carefully in the silver light, fascinated by how the shadows emphasized the gentle curve of her cheeks, her eyes invisible in the black pools beneath perfect brows. He watched the slight indentation his fingers made in her silken skin as they traced down her face and onto her neck. He considered everything he knew about her now, and the stories he'd heard about her. With a sharp intake of breath it dawned on him how wrong she was.

"No, Cordelia." He lifted his hand back to her cheek, brushing the skin so gently she could just sense the warmth of the caress but not the actual touch. "I didn't change you." She leaned into his touch imperceptibly, feeling the depth of his care and concern. "I may have been one of the first to recognize it, see you for what you really were, see the special." He lips twisted into a brief small smile, almost gone before it showed. "But it was already there to begin with, always there. Your compassion, your strength. Your courage. You kept it hidden for so long, I think even possibly from yourself, but it was always there. Always."

His let his hand fall away and sighed. "No, Cordelia Catherine Chase, you didn't change. I didn't change you. You grew into what you already were."

"Xander, I..." she was at a loss for words. Both believing him and not believing him she simply didn't know what to say.

"Please, I couldn't stand to see you get hurt, to lose you again. You're here in this world again, in my world again." His tone suddenly became harsh with implacable determination. and you're going to stay that way. And that's why you're not going."

"Just like that?" she smiled.

"Just like that."

"I'm not going to make it that easy for you, Xander."

He sighed deeply, "You never do."

* * *

**AN:** This story, Part 1 being the first fanfic I ever wrote, was born out of frustration. I had been starting to discover the world of fanfic, enjoying the incredible variety of stories and the amazing breadth of people's imaginations. Unfortunately all too often I also discovered the incomplete and abandoned story. Too many good and engaging stories left me hanging, frustrated, wanting to shout out, "But what happens next?" 

The first chapter of this story was originally written as an answer to that question, a continuation of one of the stories I had liked most. After a _lot_ of revision and consideration it became its own story, completely divorced from its origins (the scene on the patio, heavily revised, is the sole surviving remnant from that original effort).

I won't name the guilty, I know they have good reasons for their decision to stop writing. But what this means to you, the reader, is this promise: Barring a catastrophe, somehow, someway, though the going may be slow, I _will_ finish any story I start.


	4. At a Crossroads

**Summary:** On their way to The Well

**Spoilers:** Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA

**Rating:** Minor language.

**Disclaimer:** Twentieth Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, and all other copyright holders, own the rights to their respective works and characters. I receive no compensation for this work, nor is there any intent to deprive the owners of their rightful due.

**Acknowledgment:** Many thanks to Theo for his views and insights and allowing me to bounce some ideas around. This story is much better for his help.

* * *

**Part 4: At a Crossroads**

"Teri, here's the address we'll be staying in Stow, and a local map." Giles handed a slip of paper with the address written in his neat script, and the map, to the dark-haired Welsh slayer who would be driving the other slayers this trip. Tarian glanced casually at the address and stuffed it into her back pocket before she opened the door to the small silver Vauxhall hatchback and carelessly threw the map inside.

"You're sure you'll have no trouble getting there?" Giles dubiously asked.

"It's not me you need t'be worrin' about, Mr. Giles," the young slayer scoffed. "It's your boy who's gonna be lost if he can't keep up in that piece of junk," Tarian answered in her thick accent, waving at Xander's truck sitting by the back of the house, across the crushed gravel driveway from them.

Giles looked in the direction Tarian indicated, seeing Cordelia waiting impatiently for a presently absent Xander. Cordelia waved when she saw Giles look over, her tense frown transforming into a bright wide smile to match the beautiful spring day it was becoming.

They both turned at a crashing sound that echoed up from the basement stairwell. Soon after, Xander trudged up the steps bearing the last armful of supplies and equipment from the basement labs. Without even a glance at Giles or the group of slayers he headed for the truck.

"I suppose one of us should go over and help him carry all that," Giles observed, making no move himself.

"No! Good to see him working his arse once in awhile," Tarian tartly replied.

"I like to see him work, too," chirped a grinning Carole, her tone conveying a much different reason for enjoying the view.

Tarian rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. They had been fast friends from almost the moment Carole walked in the Council's doors, both sharing a wild and care-free enthusiasm for the slayage, but she would never, ever understand the young Canadian's attitude toward Xander.

Fulani, the third slayer in their group, began to head in Xander's direction but he reached the truck before she could get more than a few steps. She stopped uncertainly and then turned back to rejoin her fellow slayers. They watched as Xander unloaded the majority of equipment in the bed of the truck, placing the items carefully, as Cordelia approached him.

While they watched as he stowed the items, the slayers heard the beginnings of an argument between Xander and the new girl they'd been seeing around lately. Dozens of rumors had made the rounds of the Council house, the speculation and gossip rampant. Many of the slayers and watchers wondered if she were some special new slayer Harris had found on his recent trip to the Cotswolds. But no one was really certain for she was rarely around the house and even then almost always with Harris or sometimes Mr. Giles, and the Head Watcher was absolutely silent on the subject.

The few girls who had overheard her speak said she was an American but didn't think she was a slayer because none of them got the "vibe" off her they did with other slayers. Mostly, nobody really knew anything about the new girl except she was around Harris a lot.

Some slayers were getting resentful of her perceived aloofness and, if pressed on the subject, the way she monopolized Harris' time. A few of the more perceptive had noted interesting changes in Harris, first when she showed up and how he seemed to smile much more than usual--or at all, in fact--and then a only several days later when he was scowling a lot more than usual.

Shaking his head and turning his back on the arguing pair, Giles withdrew a small notebook from inside his jacket and set it down on the car's hood. After opening it he called over Zelinda, the eldest, but not most senior, slayer going. They quietly conferred over the checklists, slowly leafing through the pages one by one.

Carole and Tarian split their attention between the dull checkoffs and the more interesting escalating confrontation across the way. Fulani only payed attention to the fight, her dark face drawn into a worried frown, eyes getting big when she saw the new girl poke Xander in the chest rather sharply.

Giles looked up from his notes when Fulani tugged at his sleeve. "Mr. Giles, this girl, we have seen her. She is new. She is a slayer Mr. Harris found on his vacation?" Tarian snorted derisively upon hearing the title "Mr." attached to the name Harris and got lightly swatted on the back by Carole. "Mr Giles, please sir, we do something?" she asked, pointing.

Giles looked back in the direction the girl was gesturing, seeing Cordelia and Xander standing nose to nose. From the vituperative words that occasionally floated across when the light breezes blew their way he had already known the subject of their argument but had ignored it, reasonably confident of the outcome. However it appeared Fulani and possibly the others, with the notable exception of Tarian, were anxious.

"What exactly is the problem, Lani?" he inquired gently, making another attempt at drawing out the shy girl.

"Look how they fighting already! What if she hits? Mr. Harris will be hurt!"

Giles tried to give Fulani a confident smile. "Really, there's no need to worry, Lani. She's not a slayer, but in fact an old dear friend we haven't seen in a long time. Trust me, Xander is in no danger." He glanced over once more and pursed his lips. "Probably."

"But fighting!" Fulani persisted, stabbing her finger at the pair, who had now taken their fight over to the passenger door as Xander stashed the last of the equipment behind the seats.

"Yes." Giles agreed, "Yes, they always did have an, umm... interesting relationship. That's just how Cordelia and he usually are." He turned back to the anxious young slayer and put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle reassuring pat. "Really, Lani, it's quite alright. There is nothing to worry about, I assure you."

"Cordelia, is it?" asked Tarian, nodding approvingly. "A good Welsh name. And taking Harris down a notch or two. I like her!"

Though Fulani remained anxious despite Giles' assurances, the other girls were satisfied their trusted friend, guide and sometimes mentor, was in no danger. They continued to watch as Xander, in obvious frustration, finally pounded once on the vehicle's hood, the thump heard plainly across the way.

Xander abruptly spun about and stalked their way. Cordelia smirked at Xander's retreating back and followed behind him, but not before winking at Giles after Xander had turned. Giles smiled and returned the wink. When Xander looked back to see what Giles was winking at he saw only a serene Cordelia following close behind. His scowl deepened as he continued over.

"I don't need to ask what you two were arguing about," Giles informed them as the pair closed with the main group, "but can I also assume I don't need to ask the outcome?"

Xander, still fuming but maintaining a tight rein on his temper, glared at Cordelia. His shoulders dropped and he rolled his eye. "She's in."

Giles returned Xander's scowl with a sympathetic smile. "Xander, I understand your desire not to involve Cordelia, but I really do think it's all for the best that she come. And she's an adult and it really is her decision, not yours."

"And I really do think it's not a good idea." Xander sighed again, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. Cordelia smiled prettily, cutting him more than any gloating victorious smirk could have.

"Nonetheless, since she _is_ coming, let's introduce her. First, everyone, as I'm sure you've all been wondering," Giles turned slightly to address the slayers to his left and right, "this is Cordelia, a friend of ours from Sunnydale. She went to high-school with Buffy and Xander, and though not a slayer herself, is a very experienced demon fighter. She comes to us after quite an interesting, umm... adventure, shall we say."

Cordelia was greeted by a mixed chorus of 'hello's and waves, and she gave her widest winning smile and returned a polite and cheerful 'Hi' to the other girls.

"And Cordelia, these are the slayers who will accompany us on our own adventure." Lifting his hand to indicate the girl just to his left, he said, "First, this is Tarian--"

"Just Teri," broke in the black-haired slayer.

"--Teri, from Wales. To her left is Zelinda, from Munich." indicating the tall woman on the other side of Tarian. Cordelia repeated her greetings to each in turn as they were introduced.

"Hello," replied Zelinda in flawless American-accented English, nodding her head slightly.

"On my right is Fulani, from the Natal." The tall Zulu merely ducked her head shyly but otherwise made no reply. "And this is Carole, visiting us from Cleveland."

"Hiya!" greeted the short redhead, bouncing on her toes. While bearing some vague physical resemblance to Willow, though not as thin, her readily apparent effusive gregarious nature belied further similarities. "I'm actually from Victoria, but I've spent most of my time at the Cleveland Center."

Before anyone could say anymore, Xander broke in impatiently. "Wonderful, we're all bestest pals. Can we go now?"

Rolling her eyes, Tarian leaned in toward Cordelia conspiratorially, "You and I have to talk. He could do with a hair pulled from his nose, I'm telling you." she said, nodding her head at Xander. To Cordelia's ears, listening to Tarian's version of English was like hearing words spoken through oatmeal. She could barely understand a word, and even then they didn't seem to make much sense. She settled for sagely nodding her head in false understanding.

Giles, ignoring Tarian's whispers behind him, answered Xander, "Very shortly, Xander. There are a few more things to go over. First, I've spoken with Willow. She'll be on tomorrow's flight and should arrive the day after. She'll be picked up at Heathrow and driven to Stow directly."

Looking up at the mention of the witch, Cordelia saw that Xander merely lifted a disinterested eyebrow.

Giles continued, "I've also taken the liberty of ringing Buffy as well. If necessary, she can join us on twelve hours notice.

And again Cordelia saw Xander express only faint interest. He was behaving as if the trio who she once swore couldn't be separated with a crowbar were no more than distant colleagues. Xander had hinted at some problems but she never expected to see such utter lack of interest or concern.

"You're set with the coven?" Xander asked Giles. "You'll meet us tomorrow?"

"Yes, Madame Winchester agreed to meet with me this evening at five." Giles looked down at his watch. "And you're right, I should be off now." He gathered up the few items he'd spread out across the Vauxhall's hood and tucked them away into his briefcase. "Alright Xander, drive safe, and I'll see you all tomorrow." Giles waved goodbye, turned and walked off to his own car.

Xander turned to Tarian, "Tarian, you've got the directions? You're good?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Harris." Tarian answered in a high-pitched mocking voice, imitating Fulani even as the African glared at her. Carole giggled while Zelinda ignored the antics of the younger girls.

Scowling at Tarian, Xander stepped over to Zelinda. He gently pulled her aside to discuss some matters with her for a few minutes, Cordelia watching with interest. Soon the slayers waved their goodbyes and piled into the little hatchback. Tarian whipped it about the driveway, spraying dirt and pebbles every which way, and tore off the Council grounds with a squeal and toot of the horn as she turned onto the road.

"Let's go," Xander commanded, saying nothing more. In a tense silence, Xander and Cordelia returned to his vehicle and he followed Tarian, though much more sedately.

---

Cordelia was finding the long trip to Stow-on-the-Wold at once interesting, boring, and very, very frustrating. She glumly stared out at the English countryside whizzing by, casually gazing at the towns and villages seen from the large highway and noting the similarities and differences from the dryer, more wide open southern California she was used to.

She had never felt so out of place before. Despite superficial similarities, the subtle and not so subtle differences in building styles and design, the look of the woodlands and landscaping; even differences in the mundane and prosaic such as a traffic signal, just the sheer _foreignness_ of it all, emphasized a displaced feeling, a here-but-not-here sensation she had frequently experienced since arriving at Stonehenge.

The feeling occurred more often after hearing the news of her friend's fates and only gradually becoming less bothersome in the last day or two. At first she thought it was largely due to Xander's presence providing an anchor of familiarity, a callback to simpler and more understandable times. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder at the person sitting next to her she now wondered if he was actually the problem.

She twisted around slightly to get a better angle, inspecting his profile again. She noted for the hundredth time the physical changes, how he'd aged far more than the six years they had been apart. For the first time though, she discerned a certain firm set of his jaw and a dead-eyed focus he'd never possessed before.

And the physical differences, as great as they were, were overwhelmed by the deeper emotional changes. He had seemed so warm and happy only days ago, very much like the Xander she remembered.

That quickly changed ever since declaring her intention to go to The Well. She'd never known him to be so quiet, so tightly wrapped and under control when upset. The level of quiet concentration and anger he continually demonstrated was scary. He was almost a complete stranger, taciturn and morose, cold and distant. Though he was still unfailingly polite, there was now always a belligerent edge in his voice whenever he spoke to her. This was a side of him she had never known existed, or even could exist, before.

She had hoped the confrontation on the patio would settle the issue in her favor and was dismayed by how wrong she was. Except for the one blow-up just before leaving they had exchanged no more than a handful of words the whole day.

What had happened to him? she wondered. He had always been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, to give voice to whatever he was feeling, a trait that could be irritating as hell but one she now thought of as endearing and wished to see again.

Initially she had been tolerant and even somewhat amused by his angry silence. Two hours into the trip the amusement had been replaced by annoyance, now turning to anger.

"Are you going to keep this up the entire trip?"

Slowly he twisted to face her, focusing his one eye on her, staying that way a moment before returning to pay attention to the road.

She exhaled a loud sigh of frustration.

"What?" he asked presently.

"Your Angel imitation. It's coming along very well. Needs a little less cold rage and a bit more stoic broodiness," she said. "Add some hair gel and you'll have it perfect." she added sarcastically, unwilling to keep any traces of bitterness from her voice.

"Angel!" he huffed loudly, but said no more.

She shrugged and looked away again, playing with a loose thread on the seat as she watched the smaller cars zipping by them in the fast lane.

"I'm not happy about this. You coming," she heard Xander say.

Cordelia responded without turning. "Gee, I hadn't noticed. Now ask me if I care, Xander," she snapped childishly. Dammit! she swore to herself. How was it that he so easily brought out the worst in her? This was not a time to let Xander drag her down.

"You're saying you don't care what I think?" he asked rhetorically. He snapped his fingers loudly. "Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one!"

She physically, forcibly shook off her frustration, swiveling around fully in the seat to face him directly. "No! Xander, dammit, I _do_ care! That's the problem. But for days now you're acting like I'm just a helpless little girl, that I've got nothing to contribute, that I can't help! I do _not_ deserve to be treated this way and I'm more than a little tired of it! You're acting like a jerk--no surprise--but I'd hoped it was _just_ acting, because if this is the real you, well then..."

She threw up her hands, about to give up, then decided not to, determined to have her full say. "What happened to 'being there' for me, Xander?" she demanded, venting her frustrations. "Huh! Where are you now, Xander? Or were those just big words full of your hot air, Xander?" she spat out, sneering his name.

Xander winced at the final accusations, finally showing some emotion other than a cool tempered anger, her comments hitting home. But stiff-necked and scowling, working his jaw, he refused to respond.

With her frustrations out in the open she continued more gently, "When you told me that, it meant more to me than you can possibly imagine. Knowing that someone would help me through, it makes it easier t-to live again after... everything that's happened. But don't you understand?" she implored, "When you say those words, that you'll be there, it says more. It tells me..." she paused as she searched for the right word, unknowingly finding it in the problem they'd always had when they were still a couple. "It implies trust. That I should trust you. That I _can_ trust you.

"And despite all of our history--or maybe because of it, I don't know--I want to, Xander, I really do," she pleaded with him. "But it's not a one-way street. It can't be. Don't you see that? For me to trust you, trust that you will be there, you have to trust me. It's got to be both of us or it's nothing but useless words and wasted breath. And if that's true, then that--" her voice cracked as it dropped to a whisper, "Then that's what really hurts."

She stared at him expectantly, waiting, hoping he would understand what she was saying, understand the risk she was taking allowing herself to trust him again as he wanted her to.

She sniffed once when he made no reply after long moments had passed. She fell back against the window, away from him, shaking her head in bitter disappointment, beginning to believe now this person beside her, the hard empty shell of a stranger, was the real Xander after all. Another soldier down. She closed her eyes tight and let her head bump against the window, trying not to think about losing yet another. A single tear traced down her cheek, unseen by Xander.

Xander shifted uncomfortably against the seatbelt, his hands convulsively gripping the wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. Trust. Of all the things Cordelia had said to him, that one word seemed to explode into every corner of his mind. It then bit down and grabbed hold of him, shaking him like a tree on a blustery day.

Of course he trusted her! How stupid of her to think otherwise, he thought. Even now, couldn't she understand he was doing his best to protect her, to keep an uncertain future from snatching her away again?

Then why did that word chip away at him like an ice-pick, unveiling a guilt he had unsuccessfully tried to bury and ignore for so long, eventually just learning to live with it and move on? Why did her words make him feel so guilty all over again?

He looked over to her, seeing her back to him, and he saw her shoulders rise and fall suddenly, hearing a wet shuddering breath escape her.

Until that moment Xander had never truly realized how fully she had trusted him when they were together, how much of herself she had put out there, exposing herself, risking everything she once thought important for something she believed would be better.

Right on the heels of that understanding came a profound and almost overwhelming shame. He also realized that at the same time she trusted him fully and completely with her heart he still had never really quite trusted her so entirely. He knew he had loved her, had shared dreams, fears and confidences with her that he never had with Anya, or even Willow. But he had not trusted her, at least not all the way, not like she had. There was always the tiniest, nagging doubts, believing she might leave him whenever it suited her, perhaps after one fight too many or if things just became too difficult for them.

God's below, no wonder she reacted as she had! What a true and total heel he'd been! he cursed himself. Even more than his cheating it was his self-righteous sanctimonious belief, that somehow he was the one who had been more committed to their relationship, that shamed him, that nearly overwhelmed him, pulling him under.

With old guilts surfaced and redoubled, it sickened him to comprehend just how wrong he'd been, knowing the hurt he'd inflicted was so much greater than he once thought. She, the shallow diva of high-school, had truly been the far better person.

Why hadn't he seen that? The evidence was all there! She had been the one to believe in him, to believe in and accept the weirdness of them and how oddly special they were together. It was she who had believed and trusted...as he had not.

He struggled to maintain control of himself and of the vehicle. But the twitching convulsions in his suddenly weakened arms still caused him to wobble in the lane, setting off a chorus of angry honks from the other drivers on the motorway.

Cordelia looked up, startled, when she felt the truck abruptly veer into the adjacent traffic. She looked over and saw a stricken and panicked look on Xander's face, his mouth working as he attempted to say something.

"Xander?--" she began uncertainly, reaching out to the dashboard to brace herself.

"I-I-" he croaked, "My God, Cordy! You're-I...My God!--"

"Xander, what--"

"No! You're right. You were always right! Jesus Christ, I was so stu--"

"Xan--"

"Cordy, you're so right. And, and...I-I'm sorry! Oh God, I am so sorry! I didn't understand. I'm sorry. God, what a jerk I was! I didn't understand!"

"It's okay, Xander," Cordelia hastily responded, not entirely certain what he was raving about but sensing it was the right thing to say to calm him down.

"NO!" he shouted. "Don't you understand? You're right!" Xander apologized again, "I'm sorry, and..."

"You what, Xander?"

"I do. I trust you. I do. I trust you. I believe you. You're right about everything!"

"You mean that? You're not just saying it?" she asked hopefully.

There was no question in his mind anymore, no more doubts. He trusted her unconditionally. But unable to speak anymore he just nodded his head minutely.

A watery smile emerged as Cordelia carefully brushed the edge of her hand across the dampness on her cheek. "Then let me help," she said, "The way you've helped me."

Confused, he swallowed convulsively, hardly believing her. "You-you mean that? After everything? After everything I've done?"

"Yes, even after everything you've done."

Xander felt uncertain and overwhelmed, but the crashing waves of shame and self-loathing began to slowly ebb as a sense of profound relief swept through him.

"But why? I mean, I don't understand." His brow knit together. "Why do you? Why _would_ you! Why?"

"I'm not sure, Xander. I think it might be... I--" She sat back, looking down at her hands she had clasped together in her lap. "Let me ask you this. The other night you said you had loved me. Was that for real?"

After his experience with Anya and now this recent revelation, he understood love, the kind that lasts through adversity, is intimately entwined with trust. His epiphany moments ago had just revealed he was found wanting. But he also knew what he'd felt for her then was as close to that kind of love as he'd ever had, even with Anya. If only he'd been a better person, had a little time to mature, to understand his feelings about her, he thought he might have been able to avoid the worst mistakes, that he and Cordelia might have been able to forge something that could last.

"For the longest time I didn't know what I was feeling. I remember what it was like being with you. Then without. How it made me feel when you smiled at me for the first time in months at the prom. I know now I wasn't any good at showing you, trusting you the way I should have but yeah, yeah I was."

She paused before saying anything, giving him a small affectionate smile. "Then I think you've answered your own question."

Xander nodded his head slowly, considering the implications. "Wow!" he whispered after awhile.

"Yeah," she agreed, smile broadening, looking up at the highway ahead of them, fully aware they were really only halfway around the corner.

An exit sign came into view, providing a much needed distraction at that moment. "Hey, isn't that where Giles comes from?" Cordelia exclaimed.

---

Both were more exhausted than either would have thought possible. Xander would liked to have found a pub in town, to sit back and try and come to terms with his new-found understanding of past mistakes, but right now he just needed to get out as soon as possible. Breaking a short-standing rule of avoidance when traveling England's motorways he pulled into the Welcome Break service area adjacent to the Oxford exit. Cordelia tacitly agreed she could also use a break from the noise and confines of Xander's truck.

Looking around at the options presented to them neither were able to stomach the idea of Burger King or KFC, astonishing Cordelia. On the other hand, coffee and biscuits sounded perfect and they headed for Coffee Prima instead.

"What?" asked Cordelia when she noticed him smiling oddly while they waited in line to place their order.

"All the looks we're getting," he inclined his head at the bustle of noisy travelers all around. "We must be like 'Beauty and the Beast' come to life. You think if I growl I can scare the kids?" He leaned over and started making a face at one particularly obnoxious and noisy brat, who turned with a yip and buried his face in his mother's coat.

Cordelia yanked him back before the inattentive parent could see what had just frightened her child. "Behave yourself, Beast!" she scolded him playfully.

After placing their order and retrieving their drinks and a packet of biscuits, they took a booth toward the back and settled themselves in comfortably. Xander took a moment to lean back and close his eye, willing himself to relax and allow the enticing aromas of coffee and spices to waft over him. However, Xander didn't have much of a chance to relax.

"Will you tell me about Africa?" she asked after taking a sip from her steaming caffe latte, making a face at how oily and bitter it was.

He pushed back in his seat, inhaling a deep breath before exhaling an unrestrained blast. "Whoah! You couldn't ask me something easy? Sure, we've had our moment, and we're all with the trust now, but why not something easy like...like stopping Glory single-handed?

"I'd like to know," she answered, eyes wide and curious.

Looking at her, Xander saw no guile or judgment in Cordelia's eyes, only the concerned curiosity of a friend who wanted to know and to help. He absent-mindedly scratched lightly at one of the scars on his right arm as he tried to decide how to begin.

What could he say about Africa? There was no refuge in silence; he knew Cordelia wouldn't accept that, and she would be right not to, given what they'd just gone through. So this was it, he thought. If he expected her to trust him--and he did--then this was it.

However, he still had to overcome a great reluctance as he began to speak. "I spent over a year looking for slayers. Fulani was one of the last slayers I located, by the way." He spoke deliberately and with great care for each word as he watched himself trace an invisible outline of the continent on the table with his finger. "Sometimes it was easy. Mostly not so much."

Pausing, his mind focusing inward, Xander recalled images of Africa, wishing he could forget many. With a start, he took too large a sip from his cup, wincing when he burned his tongue, and began again.

"It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen, Africa. Landscapes you wouldn't believe. A primal wildness. Blistering suns and torrential rains. Sand and jungle and everything in between. Thundering herds you could hear an hour before you saw them. And such magnificent people you'll never find anywhere else."

He halted, still looking into the distance, a sad tiny smile turning up one corner of his mouth. She was about to prompt him when he continued, bringing his focus back.

"At the same time it's the most ugly place I've ever seen. There's so much anguish, so much unnecessary death and destruction. Demons that make the Sunnydale variety look like angry kittens, and some of them are as human as you or I."

His eye flicked over to her and then down to the slowly cooling coffee in his hands, watching the expanding reflections on the brown surface each time his hand shook. He frowned, then picked up the narrative in a lecturing tone, forcing the words past a growing constriction.

"You can't make Africa into what you want it to be. It forces you to adapt to it or you'll die. You learn to separate real threats from imagined. You learn to simplify your life, keep only what you need, care only about the things that really matter, that are really important."

"And what's that?" Cordelia asked softly, beginning to get a true understanding of how deeply Africa had affected him.

He looked straight at her, face grim, a dark intensity in his one-eyed gaze that drilled through her.

"Protect mine. Fuck everybody else!" Xander answered harshly.

She blinked, unprepared for the extreme desolate passion of his answer. Unable to hold his implacable stare, she was forced to look away. "That's-that's--" she stammered.

"--how you get from one day to the next," Xander finished for her, added nothing else.

Still unable to look him in the eye, she settled for watching his hands surrounding the coffee cup, enclosing it to capture all the radiating warmth, not wasting anything, she realized. She noticed the tremors causing his paper cup to rattle ever so slightly.

"What happened, Xander? This isn't you!"

It was several seconds before Xander responded. "It's what's left."

The point had finally been driven home that his really wasn't an act. He was _not_ merely a scratched up, rumpled and irascible version of the boy she'd known. But she still clung to the belief there was more in him than that cold bare statement seemed to say. There _had_ to be, or he was well and truly lost.

Tremulously she said, "I-I don't think I believe that."

His stare never wavered from her and he merely shrugged, as if the truth was self-evident no matter what she wanted to believe.

"What's happened to you!" Cordelia asked more strongly. "Please, Xander?"

He finally dropped his stare, freeing her of the tension that had pinned her.

"Sometime after I'd left Anya on our wedding day--you knew about that, right?

"Um, yeah?" she said, raising her cup before her, looking over the rim.

He looked down at the table, reached over with one hand to flick a biscuit crumb off, then shrugged once more.

"Afterward she said I was just a scared little boy. She was right. I had run. And after Sunnydale, well, I guess I just kept on going. Guess I was pretty good at it by then. Get as far, far away as I could. Just like a scared little boy."

"You're not a little boy. Even I can see that," she commented, surprising him with her conviction.

His lips twitched into a small smile, held a moment and then fell back. It's all about the trust, right? he reminded himself, heart suddenly hammering.

"I'm still scared, Cordelia!" he whispered. "I am so, so scared! Sometimes--most times--it's all I can do just to wake up and get out of bed."

The nightmares still happened. The worst were the short ones, where he was lying in bed and turn his head to see Anya next to him, lightly snoring, body cut in half. The image would shimmer, he'd open his eyes, and that side of the bed was as cold and empty as before.

There were variations. Often it was Buffy, body crushed and bleeding after the fall. Other times it was a black-haired and veiny Willow, lightening flashing from her eyes. Sometimes it was Cordelia, eyes dull and clouded, a knife sticking out of her stomach. Images of all the people he'd hurt or couldn't help. Fleeing California hadn't improved matters; every night in Africa was the same.

He desperately wanted to look at Cordelia but couldn't, his trust faltering, evaporating. He finally did glimpse at her, but kept his eye moving past, looking out the window, up at the cheap mass-produced oil painting over her head, or over at the line of people waiting--anywhere, anywhere but at her--and waited for the rejection and condemnation.

It never came. She was almost surprised by the sense of relief that flooded through her with his admission, seeing the carefully hidden pain and fear laid bare and visible. She realized it was because it proved to her once and for all he was not the cold hard shell she had been seeing the past few days. "Is that it?" Cordelia asked carefully.

He nodded his head.

"Good," she finally declared.

His brow crinkled and his mouth dropped open in astonishment and confusion. "Good! What's good? I just told you I'm a coward! That I can barely face each day! That sometimes I just never want to wake up. What's good about that?" he railed.

"Because you're wrong, that's what's good. You're not a coward, Xander! You never were."

He was surprised to hear warmth and understanding, to hear her stern voice filled with an acceptance he hadn't realized how badly he needed.

"You're as far from a coward as can possibly be. You can be pretty thick, stupid as a scarecrow, and even stubborn as a mule," she informed him as she leaned forward across the table, looking him right in the eye, taking his hand and not letting go. "but you were never a coward. So you're scared. That makes you _human_! That's what's good." Then she smiled impishly, "Trust me!"

She sat back, letting him go. "And I understand why you want to protect me. I get that now. And sometimes--not too often!--I'm going to want that help." She reached to put her hand back atop his. He automatically turned his hand to grasp hers and she returned the soft squeeze. "And maybe that's why we're here now, together."

"Are we?" he asked hopefully, looking down at her hand in his, feeling the strength underneath the soothing softness.

"Yes, Xander, we are," she answered, raising her eyebrow for emphasize.

He studied her exquisite features, softened with care and empathy, making her even more beautiful than he'd ever seen her before. He watched transfixed as an absolutely sincere smile slowly emerged. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"And hey look," she looked down at the imaginary watch on her wrist, "it only took you twenty-four years to figure that out!" Her gentle smile widened to its full confident brilliance. "But it's nice to hear you say it."

They sat quietly that way for several long seconds before he said, "I'm still not happy about you coming to the Well."

"Deal with it!" she commanded, laughing. He joined in after a moment, their laughter attracting the attention of everyone around them.

They soon settled down into a calm and easy stillness that enveloped and isolated them from the noisy crowd. To both it was a feeling reminiscent of those rare times when they would just simply _be_ with each other; not making out, not fighting, not battling demons, but just together, being as much of themselves as they ever could be.

The moment was broken by the trill of Xander's cell phone. It was Tarian demanding to know where they were, why they were so late, and did he need her to find his keys for him, or show him how to fill the tank with petrol.

During Xander's conversation Cordelia finished off her drink and watched as he parried the slayer's teasing. He answered Tarian in the negative, explaining they had stopped for a break, would be in Stow within the hour, and to go ahead and eat. Or did she need him to show her how to use a fork? Tarian was too shocked by Xander's light humorous riposte to say anything before he added a cheerful "Goodbye, Teri" and hung up. He had never called her "Teri" before.

With a self-satisfied sigh he asked, "Time to go."

---

A dozen insistent irritating rings filled the dark room before the large powerful hand of the lone occupant closed over the old Western Electric handset, engulfing it. A baker's dozen and he lifted the handset to his ear. "Yeah?" he gruffly challenged the intruder.

"It's me," the tinny voice replied, severely unimpressed.

He instantly recognized the voice of his caller and it surprised him more than he thought capable. Mildly stunned, he paused to consider a multitude of answers. Unable to summon anything appropriate for a moment like this, he settled for a non-committal banality. "Been awhile. Didn't think I'd hear from you again."

"If it's any consolation, I never thought you would either. But something's up, bucko. Bigger than any of our petty little problems." "Really?" he asked doubtfully, "And what would that be?"

"Consequences."

His eyes squinted in confusion, not understanding what his long-ago friend was talking about. "Consequences? What consequences?" he dumbly repeated, peering up at the sparkling lights of the nighttime cityscape filtering through the curtained window.

"The not nice deadly kind, my friend. End-of-the-World as we know it. Your basic source material for overdone Cecil B. DeMille's. The proverbial hell at the end of the road of good intentions."

"I-I'm not...," he began, turning away from the window, "I'm not a part of that. Not anymore." He shut his eyes, raising his free hand to cover them, suddenly very tired. "Call the Council, they can deal with it."

"In a way I already have. Or they've been in touch with me would be a more accurate way of putting it. Faith is here."

The hand dropped away as his eyes snapped open. "Faith's in Vegas? What's she doing there?"

"Blowing off some steam, losing a ton of money, having a ton o' fun. The girl can par-tay, my man." "Yeah, she's an animal," he answered sarcastically,

"And she sang."

"So again, what's that got to do with me?"

"You've been sitting on your sweet candy-cane ass ever since Buffy and friends pulled it from the inferno. Read some interesting things off her. You left quite a mess. Stuff even I wasn't aware of."

"What are you talking about?" he asked warily.

"Not for me to tell. It's her story."

"What does she know? What did you tell her?"

"I told her everything. She's on her way to get you."

"Here? Get me? For God's sake, why!" he shouted into the phone, showing the first signs of real emotion. "I told you, I'm out of the game. I signed it all away. I've lost everybody, everything I ever cared about. A great big cosmic push. Which was about as good as I hoped for. I'm done now!"

"Wrong, amigo. She's coming to get you. And you're going to Merrie old England."

The wind was knocked from his sails. "England?" he asked in a small voice. He dropped heavily into the reading chair beside the phone.

"Yepper-doodles," the caller answered with false cheer.

"Where, precisely?" he asked, squinting suspiciously.

"The Deeper Well, more precisely."

Even though he had been perfectly comfortable in the cool room before the call, he began to shiver uncontrollably. He hunched over, head bowed down under the weight of his choices. "Th-The Well?"

"You've got to help make things right again. It is your fault, after all."

"My fault? H-H-How... ?" he attempted to put an indignant tone into his voice, but it lacked the conviction of righteousness.

"Drogyn, for starters."

His blood ran colder upon hearing the name spoken aloud. "That--It was... It was necessary. There was no other way," he pleaded. "He knew that. He understood."

"Did he?

"He must have!" insistent.

His caller sniffed. "Doesn't matter. Faith's on her way. Expect her in a few hours."

He struggled for an excuse, a way out, any way to avoid going back, getting involved again. "How am I supposed to get there? I don't have the plane anymore," he argued lamely.

"Faith says there's a way."

"There is, huh?" he asked weakly.

"What she says."

"And that's it? I don't get a choice in the matter?"

The crackling reply was final, sad and wistful, the echo of a chance to do one last favor for someone his caller had once called friend. "No. You really don't." The line clicked dead.

He held the phone close before him, examining it before slamming it down hard enough to crack the thick casing. Hollow fury built up inside him as looked at the smashed instrument on the side table.

Fight the good fight, right? Fine sounding words, he thought. Had it really been worth it? Did he really accomplish what he set to do when the dust had finally washed away? He had started a battle he thought he might win but, except for a brief respite, nobody really seemed to notice he had. The war picked right up again, the lives and deeds of men, good and bad, went on as if nothing happened.

Fight the good fight. It made him want to throw up. He had been so glib and self-assured when he mouthed that to everybody. The same everybody, the ones he knew, loved, or ever cared about, who had died or abandoned him somewhere along the line. Some with very good reason, he could admit, still looking at the ruined phone.

And now, though the world had taken everything away from him in what he had hoped was its final demands for justice, it apparently was _still_ not enough. It would never be enough! he raged. "Shit!" he roared at the empty room. He watched as a small piece of the phone fell to the floor.

He heaved a weary sigh, for the body remembers and some habits never die. Sighing again, resigned to the fact it would be pointless if Faith arrived and he didn't want to leave, he decided to make himself ready to go as soon as she showed up.

Rising slowly, he shuffled over to the closet, pulled open the door and flipped some cardboard boxes out of the way. Their contents spilled haphazardly on the cedar floor but he made no effort to clean up the mess. Eventually he found a battered leather duffel and returned with it to the sitting area. He opened some drawers and tossed in a small collection of clothes. He next checked the coolers and filled two thermos bottles from the bags hanging in the room's mini-fridge. Packing everything down, he zipped up all the pockets, turned, sat and quietly waited for Faith.

---

"An interesting group," Cordelia commented as they walked outside the service area. "All those slayers." She grew thoughtful, "Belinda seems kinda ancient."

"ZE-linda," Xander corrected her, squinting in the afternoon sun, "and she likes 'Linda'. And I'd hardly call twenty-eight ancient. That's just a few short years away for you and me."

"I didn't hear that," Cordelia airily replied in a sing-song voice, brushing aside the words with a quick flip of her hand.

"And twenty-eight is almost thirty," he added dryly.

"Not listening!" covering her ears.

"Sometimes I feel almost ready to collect Social Security."

"Great! You spent days _not_ talking to me, and now I can't get you to shut up? I can't win!"

He opened the passenger door for her, smirking as she shook her head at her bad fortune. Getting in himself, Xander dug out his copy of the inn's address and handed it to Cordelia. Then he reached across to the glove compartment and pulled out his AA map of Gloucestershire. He unfolded the map, turning it around once to get oriented right and handed it to her, "You're navigator. We're here, just off the M40," he pointed, "and we want to be there," tapping the map at Stow-on-the-Wold.

"Do I look like Magellan?"

He pulled back and squinted, lifting his hands to frame his view of her with the thumb and forefinger of each hand. "Hmm...I have to say, from this angle there does seem to be a certain resemblance." He glanced behind him and didn't see her stick her tongue out at him.

She frowned slightly at the unexpected duties but gamely looked about and then at the unfolded map. "I thought you've been to The Well already," she commented as she looked up from the map to the exits and ramps around them, "why do you need me to navigate?"

"I have, but I didn't stay in Stow and I didn't come from this direction," he answered as he drove slowly toward the service area exit, stopping to let some pedestrians by. He gave them a friendly wave while toying with the idea of gunning the engine as they passed in front.

She remained silent while figuring out the route to Stow-on-the-Wold as he pulled out of the service area.

"Since you're feeling so gabby now, why don't you give me a quick rundown on everyone."

"Sure. Who first? And which way?"

"Linda. And according to this it looks like we first want, umm, A40 and take that around Oxford?" she half asked, half stated.

"Yeah, sounds about right," he answered, checking the sign postings. "Okay, Linda then. She's a cop from Munich and she'll be returning end of the year. At twenty-eight I think she's the oldest slayer there is, so I guess that does make her kind of ancient in slayer years. Most of the slayers Willow created are between fourteen and seventeen, but not all," he explained as he started on the route past the storied ivory-tower town.

Even from a distance, and even as jaded as she was, Cordelia still gaped at the distant university buildings visible above the trees and smaller building, with spires that pricked the clear blue sky like they would snag a passing cotton-ball cloud. She nodded her head or made little noises to show she was listening as Xander rambled on, but most of her attention was captivated by the passing town. "You sure don't see that in California."

"No, you really don't." Xander agreed as he peered in the direction she was looking.

She glanced down at the map again. "It looks like a few more intersections to go through, but stay on 40 for now."

"And the spell seems to be opened-ended. Girls are still turning into slayers as "their time" comes, which is usually between those ages. But we got a few at either extreme. For the older ones it's usually not too bad. They tend to deal with it better, the flip side being they already have a real life that can be completely incompatible with being a slayer.

"On the other hand, for the youngest ones--I think the youngest is eight or nine, in China somewhere--that's just nothing but a real sucky situation. I mean, they're just little kids! They don't know what's going on. They're simply not ready, emotionally or physically, to fight demons, yet they have the strength to put some serious hurt on even a large adult if they have a tantrum."

"What do you do?" she asked in obvious concern, remembering what she heard about Kendra's upbringing. "Do you take them away from their families?".

"God, no!" he exclaimed, genuinely shocked. "We're not that council anymore, Cordy!"

"Well?"

"We inform the parents so they know what's going on--and believe me, that does not usually go down well--and then we leave them alone. Keep an eye on them. We have a slayer, two if possible, and a watcher nearby to protect them. Cross our fingers. Hope for the best. So far we've been lucky and none of the really young ones has been hurt. But it's only a matter of time before our luck runs out, and no, I don't know what we're going to do about it."

Cordelia murmured a sympathetic response. Finally by Oxford she tried to verify their location against the map. Frowning as she twisted the map about, she asked, "We're still on A40?"

"Yup"

"Okay, stay on this through the next circle thing, and then we want 44."

"Roundabout."

"What?"

"They're called roundabouts. Vile, evil...vile roundabouts!" he said with passion, shuddering in an exaggerated fashion.

"Whatever. It's goes in a circle. Circle thing."

"Anyways, like I was saying, Linda being a cop is perfect. She's actually one of the most junior slayers despite her age, but she's also one of the best and steadiest. Never loses her cool. Always calm, poised, careful. Thinks before she leaps. Not the very best fighter, that nod goes to Lani, but she's the one you want watching your back if you're in a real tough spot."

They entered another roundabout and Xander practically jumped through his seat belt when Cordelia shouted, "44! 44! That way," she pointed wildly at the signpost for the missed turn. "Pay attention, Xander!" she scolded him.

"Hey! You wanna drive!" he shot back hotly, circling around once more to reach the desired road again. She immediately shook her head. "We just keep going around till we see it again." He soon cut over onto A44 to demonstrate his point, shortly circling again to stay on their route.

The next time he glanced over at her, Cordelia looked a bit more pale and dizzy than before the rapid-fire sequence of roundabouts. When she felt she had a reasonable chance of responding only with words she agreed, "You're right. Evil roundabouts." Cordelia leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. She took a couple of soothing breaths then opened one eye, gave the map a baleful glare, and closed it again and waited a few minutes.

"So. You and Linda?"

"Me and Linda what?"

"Are you... watching her back?" she inclined her head significantly.

"Me and Linda!" he looked incredulously at Cordelia, pausing a moment to see if she was being serious. "What? No! We get along, yes. Friends even. But there's no me and Linda."

"Uh huh."

"There isn't!"

"Right."

"Trust me."

"Sure."

"Besides," he snorted, "she's ancient."

"Hah! Ancient!" she crowed.

Xander grinned to acknowledge her victory.

"What about Teri, she doesn't seem to like you very much." Cordelia smirked.

"Yeah, well, not all of us are perfect." He sighed. "I'm not a slayer, I'm not a watcher, I show up from out of the cold on Giles' doorstep and I get all kinds of privileges she thinks I haven't quite earned yet. She really doesn't like me. But that's okay, I don't like her much either. Don't get me wrong," he quickly added, "she's a good slayer, and the most senior currently at Sax. She's kinda like a Faith junior: undisciplined, likes to mouth off, a wildcat of a fighter, but she's good, she's real good. We may not like each other, but we can work together if we have to--just as long as don't make a habit of it.

"Hmpf" she replied. "What about Fulani?"

"Fulani, yes-s-s. Don't let her shyness fool you. She fights with an unbelievable rage. With good reason." He stopped speaking as his features sagged into a sorrowful expression. Cordelia nudged him with her knee. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Her entire family and village were wiped out by vampires before I could get to her."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I did--"

He shook his head sharply to stop her, "Don't worry about it! You couldn't know. She was a mess for awhile, but having something to work out her rage on, and having all the other slayers and watchers with her, has been a big help. She's really doing well, all things considered."

Cordelia nodded her head, suspecting Xander was a bigger part of her recovery than he would admit to. To distract herself she tried to figure out if the roundabouts could be avoided. She grunted when she saw it was not possible. "Stay on 44 for awhile," she informed him before gladly pushing the map away to pay more attention to the countryside they were passing through.

The road twisted and snaked about as they made their way into the Cotswolds. They rounded low rolling hills and crossed stream valleys dotted with woodlands of silvery beech, gnarled oak and ash. They drove by farm fields criss-crossed with low walls of yellow limestone and passed through hamlets and villages built of the same stone. Cordelia marveled each time they topped a hill and she could see another towering church steeple visible over the next. "It's really pretty here," Cordelia admitted after awhile.

"Sure is," he readily agreed. "This area, the Cotswolds, is really nice. I understand why Giles always liked it so much. If we didn't have more pressing matters I feel like I could just wile away the hours driving around these parts."

They easily navigated the next series of roundabouts and intersections as Xander stayed on the directed route and continued his rundown of the slayers.

"Carole is the big unknown. She's the most junior slayer in the bunch, still all little-girl excited, thinks it's all a cool deal. She's best friends with Teri, but we tend to keep her paired up with Linda and that's working pretty well."

"Smart." Cordelia gathered up the map again. "Let's see, now we follow 44 through..." she squinted at the map, not sure she was reading it right, "Chipping Norton? Then we find, umm, 436 and go left. Chipping Norton?" With a perplexed expression she looked up at him. "What kind of name is that? Or," peering down again, "Moreton-in-marsh. Yeah, like I'd want to be neighbors with Shrek. And Slaughters! Ugh! What is with these people!" she exclaimed, shaking the map at him.

"They're English?" he shrugged.

Cordelia exhaled a very unlady-like snort. "It looks like 436 takes us right into town."

The sun was just beginning to set by the time Xander and Cordelia made the final turn and climbed the tall hill to enter the crossroads town situated at the very top, an hour behind the slayers.

---

The next evening, Giles having rejoined them earlier in the day, the group was now too large to fit around one table for dinner. They split up, with the slayers around one table and the ex-Scoobies around another.

Unlike the boisterous slayers, Tarian and Carole naturally being the loudest, but occasional load barks coming from Linda and Lani as well, Xander, Cordelia and Giles were speaking in low tones.

"There's something I'm not getting," Cordelia spoke up during dessert.

"And what would that be, Cordelia? You've been in all the meetings. We've shared everything we know. What did we leave out?"

"It's not something you didn't tell me. I think it's something you guys have missed altogether."

She was met with skeptical looks and she took this as an invitation to continue. "So you think you've got this all figured out, right? Find the path, follow it to the ritual at end and you're all set?"

"Yeah, pretty much," answered Xander, shoveling more pudding into his mouth.

"Haven't you missed the biggest piece!"

"Huh? We've checked everything. A dozen people are still looking into it. What could we have missed?" demanded Xander.

Giles made a shushing motion with his hand. "Please, Cordelia, what is it?"

"Thank you," she said to Giles, giving Xander a cross look. "This ritual we're going to do will make a new guardian, right?"

"Yes, hopefully." "Yeah." The two men answered simultaneously

"Okay," she purred, having set them up. "Then who is it?"

"Who is what?" asked Xander, but Giles sat back with a thoughtful expression which rapidly turned to a pained one.

"Who's the new guardian? You, Giles? Xander?" she pointed her spoon at each in turn. "One of the slayers?" she asked, hooking her thumb to indicate the next table over.

Neither Xander or Giles had an answer.

"Figures!" Cordelia huffed, returning to finish her desert.

---

Cordelia cocked her head first one way, thoughtfully considering the setting before her, then tilted her head the other to get a slightly different angle. "That's it?" she finally asked, incredulous.

The 'it' was the entrance to The Deeper Well, a midnight shadow on the trunk of a very large, very leafy, very gnarly old oak tree nestled in among the surrounding beech and maple. It was the kind of tree perfect for having picnic lunches under, but otherwise it was just one tree among thousands of others in this wood.

"Somehow I thought it would be more foreboding. I mean, it's a Wellness thing, right, capital W?"

"You were expecting a cave? Perhaps guarded by a militant rabbit?" Giles replied sardonically, the hint of a smile visible.

"Well..."

"That would actually be the Cave of Lost Echos, over in Northumberland," he primly informed her.

Xander's head snapped around. "There really is such a thing?" he asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes!" Giles turned to answer him with a straight face. "Well, there's no angry hare anymore," he added, "but there used to be. And he really wasn't all that vicious as just rather tedious and annoying."

He got two goggled looks from his younger companions. "What? You didn't think Gilliam was actually human, did you?"

"Well..." Xander started, then shook himself off. Time to get moving, he decided, donning his command hat.

The group strode up to the tree and Xander turned to face them all, sharply cutting off the chattering. "Okay, here's how it goes. Remember, this is a look-see only, there's still a few things we need to work out," casting a glance at Cordelia. "We find the beginning of the path again, make sure it's good, and follow it as far as we can today. Linda and Carole will take point, followed by myself. Giles and Cordy next, You," pointing to Teri, "and Lani will take up the rear."

Cordelia noticed even Teri shut up and listened carefully when Xander began speaking. If he really ever was as scared as he said he was then he must have done a good job of hiding it from the slayers he worked with, she figured.

"Last time I was here with Erin and Maria there weren't any problems. I don't expect any now, but we go in ready. Everyone packing?" This was mostly asked of Giles and Cordelia, since the slayers already had their weapons out and visible, each carrying a mixed assortment of sword, knife, stake or cross-bow. Xander himself was carrying a crossbow and shotgun. "Eyes always open and moving, stay quiet and stay out of each others' way. Don't get separated. I repeat, do NOT get separated! Any questions?"

"Yeah. Why do _we_ have to carry the packs? They're the ones with the super-strength," complained Cordelia, waving at the slayers.

"They need to be ready for anything," explained Xander, "Packs would slow them down and get in the way. So we're the pack animals. Now if you don't want to carry we can take you back to the Inn...?" he asked with eyebrow raised, sounding a hopeful note.

She snorted derisively and gave a dismissive wave. "Fat chance. Lead on, jackass."

A horrified look crossed Lani's face and Carole and Tarian snickered. Linda ignored them and started toward the Well. Flicking on their electric torches the seven of them entered The Deeper Well.

---

**AN:** I look back at some of what I wrote above, particularly the X/C scenes in the car and at the rest area, and just shudder at how over-the-top they are. But try as I might that's just the way they want to be written, so I'll learn to live with that. I hope you can too.


	5. Of Love and Art

**Summary:** Adventures they'll have and people they'll meet.

**Spoilers:** Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA

**Rating:** Minor language, violence

**Acknowledgment:** I had a _big_ problem with this chapter, as the lateness can attest to. I knew what I wanted to do and roughly how to get there, but I simply could not connect the dots in a way that wouldn't make me cringe. It was very discouraging. I even gave serious thought to breaking my promise about finishing anything I started.

Fortunately, there is Theo. This fifth chapter simply would not exist had it not been for his encouragement, enthusiasm, ideas, and beta skills. Though I did the actual typing, this is his as much as it is mine.

**AN:** I seem to have developed a natural chapter size of about ten thousand words. But once I got going, this chapter kept growing and growing until it was over fifteen thousand. And I couldn't find enough I was willing to cut! So I've split the chapter and will post the second half in a few weeks.

**AN2:** Close watching of "A Hole in the World" will reveal some variance between the show's depiction of The Deeper Well and mine. Let's just call it artistic license. I hope the differences aren't too much to spoil the story for you.

* * *

**Part 5a: Of Love and Art**

Each of them hesitated before stepping into the darkly folded shadows around the tree trunk and across the threshold into the Deeper Well, even Xander who knew what to expect. Cordelia nearly ran through in an effort to overcome her acquired dislike of anything to do with portals. She yipped nervously after nearly colliding with Zelinda, Carole and Xander as they were trying to clear out of the way.

When Cordelia turned to look back through the entrance she didn't see the forest anymore, only a featureless black void through which Giles suddenly emerged. Giles turned to look as well and stood momentarily transfixed by the sight. Xander reached over and gently pulled him out of the way of the emerging Fulani, soon followed by Tarian.

"Interesting." Giles nodded to himself but said no more, even after getting a questioning frown from Tarian.

Not understanding Giles' comment, Tarian was about to say something when she finally noticed the void behind her. "Hey! Where did the door go?" she shouted, swinging her hand-held torch behind her. The beam was completely absorbed by the blackness, nothing reflected back.

"You can relax, it's still there," Xander tossed over his shoulder as he began re-adjusting Giles' pack.

After first casting a sharp and suspicious look at Xander, Tarian stepped forward and slowly pushed her hand into the blackness, seeing her fingers and then her whole hand gradually disappear. When she shifted to face the group it appeared as if her entire arm was sheared off at the shoulder. She smiled wickedly. "It's just a flesh wound!" she quipped before quickly taking another step and disappearing completely, reappearing a moment later and grinning like a maniac

"Cool!"

Xander paused from his work on Giles' pack. "All done with the kiddie ride?"

Tarian wasn't embarrassed at all, instead returning a cheeky reply of "You got it, boss-man."

The bright glare from their headlamps and hand-held electric torches filled the space with oddly shifting shadows as they jostled about. Once Xander had stopped fooling with his pack, Giles stepped over to the rock wall and peered closely at the gray surface surrounding them. "This is not the native limestone of the Cotswolds," he declared after several moments of careful study. The Englishman looked over his shoulder at Xander. "Odd it wasn't mentioned in any of your accounts."

Xander shrugged. "It's rock. What's the big deal?"

"That, together with our method of entrance..." Giles turned to Xander. "I'm certain we're not anywhere near where we started. I'm not even sure we're still on an earthly plane. It doesn't occur to you that where we actually start could be as important as where we're going?"

"Well, I save the high-brow thinking for the real Watchers on campus. Gives you all something important to do." Before Giles could reprimand him Xander addressed Zelinda, "It's time to get going. There're a few sudden dips and rises, but not much else to look out for. Sometimes the passageway gets narrow and tight, but we're generally okay. Watch your footing, it's wet in a few places, some loose gravel here and there." Xander gently tapped Zelinda's helmet. "Okay, let's move out."

Zelinda nodded. She nudged Carole, who was still gaping at the entrance, and started down the tunnel, the rest following in the order originally set by Xander.

"Eyes and ears open," Xander cautioned one more time.

For awhile Zelinda or Carole would call back what they were seeing ahead of them, but since it was always the same they soon tired of the running tour-guide act and kept their silence. Except for a little chatter from the normally garrulous Carole and Tarian, and helpful hints from Zelinda, the only sound of their passage was the rough breathing and the echos of their soft footfalls bouncing off the gray rock. The pace had begun fairly easy for Cordelia, but the cool air had a chalky dryness that made her want to sneeze. She got used to it after awhile and just concentrated on her footing and avoiding the occasional outcropping.

They traveled a long while in relative quiet. Xander was impressed by how little Cordelia was complaining when she peevishly asked, "What kind of Well is this? It just goes and goes forever. And I thought wells were supposed to go up and down."

"We're not really at the Well yet," answered Xander. "This is still just the entranceway."

"How much longer, Xander?" asked Giles a little breathlessly. The pace might have been fine for the slayers and his younger charges, but Giles didn't know how much longer he could keep it up.

Xander glanced down at his watch. "Another half hour or so."

A long half hour followed, increasingly filled with annoying "Are we there yet?" jokes, mostly from Tarian, who enjoyed seeing Xander's shoulders tense up every time she said it.

They rounded a few more bends when Carole finally announced, "I see light ahead!"

Xander, looking down at his watch, was not surprised. "Good, we're getting real close. Another minute or two."

Soon they were bathed by a shadowless sickly yellow glow from ahead, which quickly became bright enough they could turn off their lights. Their steps automatically slowed as they approached the opening. At first, they thought it was a trick of the light as the tunnel appeared to be getting wider and wider, but it quickly became apparent it was real. The passageway gradually widened before letting out onto a narrow open ledge.

Zelinda and Carole stopped at the opening, forcing the others to stop as well. From behind, Tarian and Fulani pushed forward and edged around the crowd to see what everyone was looking at. As a group they cautiously stepped out, eyes darting everywhere. Craning her neck and looking up and around, Cordelia saw that the rocky shelf they were standing on jutted out from the sheer face of a large vertical shaft, striated with shallow crevices. Ahead of them she noticed the ledge was mostly enclosed by a low stony parapet, except for where a narrow, rickety-looking wooden bridge crossed from their ledge to the far side of the shaft and another opening.

Xander pushed through between Zelinda and Carole and out onto the bridge. He continued to mid-span, turned and spread his arms wide before addressing his companions. "Ladies and Giles, I present to you...the Deeper Well," Xander announced quietly. Stomping his foot down several times, he said, "Don't worry, it's stronger than it looks."

One by one, the others joined him on the bridge. Although the dirty yellow light seemed to come from everywhere at once it was noticeably brighter from below the bridge than above. Unlike in the tunnel leading to this point, out in the middle of the Well there were no echos. They discovered that whenever they spoke it was as if their voices were sucked away, and even though they could hear each other clearly it made them feel very small and insignificant.

Zelinda briefly looked over the railing and quickly backed to the center of the bridge before edging her way off. Giles also looked and was frozen by the sight of infinity staring back at him. The Well, approximately ten meters across, almost perfectly circular, extended further than Giles could see. Unlike the portion of the shaft above them, with its relatively unblemished walls ending in a mist not far above their heads, the rough walls below the bridge were punctuated by an uncountable number of sarcophagi. Many seemed to be floating free in space with no obvious support while others were stuck into the rock walls, the ends protruding into the Well.

As Giles continued to stare down the Well, the view tugged at his mind, beginning to tear and rip at something essential that comprised who he was. A developing ache in his tense neck muscles nagged at him, reminding Giles he needed to look away before losing himself permanently. But he couldn't seem to will himself to break free.

Xander's harsh voice in his ear broke through into his daze and nudged him enough, getting his eyes to move and look at something else.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it, but don't look down for too long. It's like something reaches out and grabs your mind and refuses to let go. It can be really hard to break free."

Giles shuddered and with a last quick apprehensive glance back shook himself completely free. "Which way do we go from here?" he finally asked, with just the barest tremor in his voice, studiously not looking up or down.

"Down."

"Oh thank God," sighed Cordelia.

"Which just means at the end of the trip, when we're all good and tired, we'll have to walk back _up_." Xander gave her a hopeful look. "Not too late to go back now, Cordy. I could have one of the slayers escort you..."

Cordelia scowled and hated how Xander still seemed to think that was a perfectly acceptable idea. The resulting annoyance seemed to buoy and invigorate her and she firmly shook her head. "You'd have better luck getting Angel to laugh at your jokes." She smirked when the mention of the vampire's name caused Xander's face to contort as if he had suddenly tasted something incredibly bitter.

Xander wasn't really expecting any other answer but nevertheless his shoulders rose and fell with an unheard disappointed sigh. He turned away, muttering under his breath, "Fine. Your funeral."

Cordelia's point about just _who_ would become the Keeper around here was a very valid one and it worried him. Who would it be? Himself? Giles? One of the slayers? Cordelia? Was that why she'd been brought back? And perhaps that was the most worrisome aspect of all to Xander.

"Where _is_ the bottom?" asked Carole, quickly glancing over one last time.

He suddenly and harshly berated himself. Worry about it later. You've got a job to do first, he thought. Xander turned to Carole before answering her. "I haven't seen it. I'm not even sure it exists. When we first came through we thought about climbing down the Well directly. There are enough handholds in the rock, and we could repel from ropes off this bridge. But we don't need to." Xander gestured at the opening on the far end of the bridge. "That tunnel seems to wind back and forth and takes us through the various levels as it descends. You can't see it from here, but there are more bridges and ledges further down."

"Like an inspection tunnel?" mused Giles.

Xander nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

"And how far is the marker you found?"

"Another hour at the pace we've been going. So we'll take a break here before we continue."

---

Xander called a halt as they came upon a tight cluster of sarcophagi sticking out of the rock at various angles. "This is it," he informed the group. Kneeling down, he pulled out a large hand-held flashlight and added its light to that of his headlight. He directed the beam into the dark crevices under the looming shapes, the spot veering erratically but with purpose. Xander frowned in concentration as he adjusted his position and continued scanning the rock. After another moment he grunted and looked up over his shoulder at Giles and pointed. "Here."

Giles crouched down beside Xander and added his own light to Xander's. He blinked as a distinctive metallic yellow glimmer winked back. Giles moved in closer, wiping at the spot with his hand. "This is it?" he asked in a somewhat incredulous tone.

"That's it," Xander responded dryly. The others huddled around them, trying to get a look for themselves.

Giles huffed as he stood up, his back unbending with a crack, and paused before he stood all the way up. "It's not much."

Xander pursed his lips in agreement. "Nope, it's not."

"And this is as far as you got?" Giles looked around at the other sarcophagi and then at the darkness into which they were heading.

Following Giles' gaze, Xander also looked toward the tunnel. "No. We got a few hundred yards further but didn't see anything else. Even this we only spotted by accident when I was checking the rock around that coffin."

"Sarcophagus," Giles said automatically, scratching his head under the helmet.

"Right."

Giles brow furrowed. "Well then, I guess that's that. There's nothing for it but to press on."

"Right again, Watcher guy." Xander gave Giles a disarming smile before he turned away.

With reformed order they trudged on, more slowly now. This time all of them used their hand-held electric torches, constantly angling the light into every crevice, looking for the tell-tale gleam.

They soon reached the first junction they had seen so far. One of the two branches seemed to climb and veer to the left while the other continued to descend and curve around to the right.

"We'll go faster if we split up," observed Tarian.

Xander hated the idea of splitting the team but agreed it would take too much time if they all stayed together at every tunnel branching. Even though this was the first branching they'd run into so far, Xander suspected it wouldn't be the last.

"Okay, me, Cordy, Linda and Carole will take this one," he pointed to the right, "You guys go that way. Don't go any more than a hundred yards--"

"Meters," corrected Giles.

Xander rolled his eye, but continued smoothly. "If you don't spot anything after a hundred meters then come back here and wait. If you run into another split don't go any further, just come back here and we'll figure it out. Give the usual signal if you run into any problems."

"What's the usual signal?" asked Cordelia.

"Lot's of screaming and yelling has always worked pretty well before," Xander answered with a wolfish smile. Fulani giggled.

After proceeding only a few tens of paces into their tunnel, Fulani thought she spotted a marker. Giles leaned in closer to inspect it and brushed away the dust as the others clustered around him. "Good job, Lani." He nodded to the slayers and they started back. They only waited a few minutes before Xander's group returned.

"No luck," Xander informed them. "You?"

"Yes, Lani spotted it just a short way in."

The process was repeated at the next junction, and again they discovered the telltale gleam only a few paces down one of the paths. Every junction and branching they encountered henceforth was the same. A new golden signpost was almost always found no more than a hundred meters in, and frequently closer. On a few occasions, however, the by-now-familiar marker wasn't found until much further down the path.

One branching had four possibilities. Xander dithered but wasn't willing to send anyone alone, even though Tarian claimed she could handle it. He decreed they take two at a time, ensuring there were always two slayers in a group at all times.

And no matter what route they took, they found the tangle of tunnels always led down, and always led back to the Well itself. Usually the tunnel just opened up onto a ledge which would skirt around the perimeter before petering out at a new opening to the next tunnel. Just as often there would be a bridge crossing over the Well, similar to the one they had first crossed upon entering the Well.

And whether Xander and his people looked up or down, it was the same soul-sucking infinity they had seen before. And the Well was always filled with more coffins.

---

"Okay, that's it. This just goes on forever!" complained Cordelia during another break, gulping down water. The others had spread out a little ways to poke around and see if there was anything interesting.

Xander grinned. "Most likely."

"And what are you going to do about it?" she demanded, too tired to really snap at him.

"Nothing, actually. This was my nefarious plan all along. Get you down here--with me--where it's kinda dark and cramped. Just like the good old days." Xander waggled his eyebrows and chuckled lightly.

"Pfft! Like that'll ever happen again," she retorted in mock indignation, glad for the uplift from Xander's lighthearted jesting. But then her mood darkened. Cordelia pulled off her helmet and ran her fingers over her mussed up hair and made brushing motions at her clothes. "I'm tired and I'm hot. And look at me! I never dress this way!" She picked at her clothing as if she was trying to keep the coarse offending stuff away from her skin.

Xander did look at her, from her helmet-hair which had loosened up and partially fallen out of its pony-tail, wisps sticking out every which way, to the cotton tee-shirt now damp at the armpits and under the breasts, to her long legs showing through loose brown shorts and ending in feet shod with heavy hiking boots. He watched with casual interest as his one-time girlfriend wiggled her shoulders to adjust the load and change where the straps cut into her.

With a sympathetic smile Xander reached over to brush a damp strand of hair out of her eyes. "Would you believe me if I said the outdoorsy look works for you?"

"No!" Cordelia tried to make it a snappish response but was too tired to put much oomph into it. "Besides, we're indoors!" she said, waving at the rock around them. Xander followed the motion with his eye and nodded silently, thinking about their current relationship as she worked on straightening her hair again.

They'd had their big cathartic moment, but Xander suddenly wasn't sure what that meant in concrete terms. Was he trying to read more into it than was actually there? Sure, aside from the issue of her coming along, they had gotten along nearly as well as they ever had, with moments of humorous jesting and teasing and little, if any, of the viciousness that once permeated their relationship, even when they were dating.

But was it a real and enduring change between them, or just the result of two adults working as colleagues on a common endeavor? Or did his earlier concerns have some validity, that this was merely a temporary situation brought about by circumstances beyond their wildest imaginings?

Watching her, Xander marveled at the changes wrought in his ex over the last five years and was suddenly, painfully jealous of Angel. During high-school he'd caught infrequent glimpses of how wonderful Cordelia could be, usually when they were in private, without external images to maintain, more rarely also publicly if somewhat self-consciously.

Without a doubt Angel and his Fang Gang got to see the best of her, had seen Cordelia blossom into the person Xander wished he could have seen more of then. Was he only jealous because of her past friendship with Angel? Or was it simply because Angel was a vampire, or because of his own history with Angel?

Xander honestly didn't know. But fundamentally, what _did_ it really matter? He was here to do a job. Not to contemplate what-ifs about a woman who was growing more desirable to him the longer she was near. And again the possible purpose for her return gnawed at him. What would he do if Cordelia was to be the new Keeper, if this miraculous time together was only fleeting? His emotions churned uselessly as he tried to avoid thinking the worst.

Angry with himself, he suddenly turned and shouted back, "Let's get going! We don't want to stay down here forever!" He stalked off, Cordelia looking after him curiously.

---

They eventually arrived at the first three-way branching they had encountered to this point. Xander motioned Zelinda and Giles to join him and they quickly discussed their options. Xander was loath to split up into any group with less than two slayers, but if this happened a lot it could take too much time, and Xander was starting to get impatient. Giles stood deferentially while he waited for Xander to decide.

Xander stared down at the ground and came to an answer. "Okay, here's what we'll do. You," he indicated Giles, "and Carole go down that tunnel. I'll go with Teri down this one; Cordy, Lani and Linda will take the third. Good enough?"

Cordelia, who had been hovering on the periphery of the conversation, easily overheard his plan. Remembering her promise to Giles, Cordelia began to protest as soon as she realized she would be apart from Xander, and loudly demanded she go with him.

Xander's expression took on a strained look of patience while he heard her out. "Wait a minute, guys," he told the others before grabbing Cordelia's arm and almost literally hauling her back around the last bend, out of sight if not out of earshot. He abruptly let go and took a quick pace away from her before spinning and leaning in, imposing his greater height, breath whistling harshly through his nose as he glared at her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Cordelia was surprised by Xander's outburst. "Come back down to Earth, Napoleon!" She poked him in the chest. She didn't understand Xander's condescending attitude and was getting pissed off in reaction. "You need someone to watch your back."

"I've got Teri. And whether or not I need you--or anyone else--to watch my back is not the issue here," Xander said, jabbing a finger at the ground. He took a deep breath, settled back, and pinched the bridge of his nose. In a calmer, more conciliatory manner he continued, "Look, I'm perfectly willing to listen to suggestions, Cordy. I don't have the answer to everything. I know that. But," his arm fell away and he looked Cordelia straight in the eye, features set in a hard expression, speaking with a calm icy firmness, "when I decide something in a mission situation like this... you don't ever, EVER! question me in front of the others like that! Am I understood?"

Cordelia didn't answer as her surprise turned to shock.

He swung his hand forward, causing her to jump when his palm slapped into the rock near her ear. Cordelia made a conscious effort not to recoil. She couldn't ever remember seeing Xander Harris this genuinely furious, and certainly never when it was directed at her. What the hell had gotten up his butt anyway?

"Do you understand me, Cordy?" he repeated.

Her eyes had widened at his commanding tone and she didn't respond for several seconds. Then she locked gazes with him, neither flinching or looking away.

"I understand just fine, Generalissimo Harris. And you understand this: I am _not_ one of your little slayers you can order around. So take your 'tude and stuff it into that hollow space between your ears!" Cordelia started to stalk off then rounded back on him. "And it's Cordelia!" she said bitterly. She rejoined Zelinda and Fulani and they headed down their assigned tunnel, the slayers hurrying to keep up with her.

He cursed quietly to himself as he made his way back. He hated being such an ass. But dammit, she needed to understand! They couldn't afford to sit and debate every issue that came up. Decisions had to be made fast, and obeyed even faster. Someone had to make choices, even unpleasant ones if necessary.

His face flushed when he suddenly recalled what he'd done to undermine Buffy's leadership. He still knew it was the right decision to not return to the winery, but now, after walking the proverbial mile in Buffy's shoes, he also understood they'd handled it in the worst way possible. You just don't do that to your leader. And you especially don't do that to your friend.

Ashamed, Xander grimaced when Giles gave him a sympathetic look. "None of your business!" he snapped at the Watcher and started down the second tunnel. "I'm waiting, Teri," he called back, causing Tarian to race after.

Giles shook his head and motioned for Carole to join him to check the third tunnel.

Not ten minutes later Giles and Carole reported they had found the marker. After they reformed and started on again, Xander was surprised to find Cordelia still stayed near him, though now she refused to speak to him. He mentally shrugged and figured he'd just never ever be able to understand the woman.

---

Zelinda raised up her hand in warning and stopped abruptly. Xander saw her cocking her head around, sniffing the air. He came up beside her and looked around as well.

"What is it, Linda?"

"You don't smell it? The odor?"

"Smell wh--" He broke off when a thick sickly sulfurous odor made his nose crinkle. It reminded him of the smell of diesel fuel and hydraulic fluid from the heavy machinery at construction sites. It had a more astringent component and soon his eye began to water.

He turned back and gestured emphatically. "Everybody stay back!"

The fireball appeared without warning, a hundred yards away, completely blocking their path. It seemed to be rolling, swirling, filling up the entire tunnel and moving toward them at great speed.

"Great balls o' fire!" whispered Xander. "Did someone order up an Indiana Jones movie? 'Cause this is _so_ not the time. I didn't even bring my whip!"

At first the shock of the sight of a fireball bearing down on them prevented any of the group from moving at all. Carole was the first to break out of her shock and that acted as a catalyst for everyone else. They started to run and scramble back as fast as they could, but the fireball still gained on them.

Feeling the sudden increasing heat singing the hairs on the back of his neck, Xander realized they couldn't out-run it. Not knowing what else to do, he desperately yelled out "Flatten! Get down!" and pushed Zelinda down behind a small outcropping from the tunnel floor. He did the same to Carole and Cordelia when he reached them. Giles, further away, had already taken the same action and Xander saw Tarian and Fulani copying their actions.

The heat increased in intensity, seemingly drawing all the air out of the tunnel and replacing it with molten lead for them to breath. Xander gasped in pain but soon the air grew much cooler and his breathing eased. He looked up to the see the sphere bounding harmlessly away, already fading in strength as it disappeared around the last bend.

Everyone stood.

"Heh! That wasn't so bad." Xander smiled broadly.

Fulani nudged him and pointed back to the direction they were heading.

The passage, for as far as they could see, was filled with a hissing crackling fire, the sound growing louder and louder, soon becoming a roar. Flames were shooting out from cracks and crevices in the walls and top of the tunnel, though the floor itself seemed to be relatively clear. Silently they approached as close as possible before being stopped by the waves of heat pouring back at them.

"All those in favor of turning back, finding the nearest pub and hoisting a pint please raise your hand," Xander asked cheerfully.

Tarian just looked at Xander. "Y'know Xander, that's the smartest thing you've said all day." Her hand joined his.

"There must be some way through," said Giles thoughtfully, ignoring their banter. "The Via Aurum is meant to be difficult, arduous, and yes, even dangerous. But not completely impossible to traverse." Giles suddenly smiled. "And we've come such a long way already."

Xander turned to face Giles and the others, noting how their faces glowed in the reflected light from the flames. The mere action of turning his face into shadow caused the skin on his forehead and cheeks to cool and relax from a hot and parched tightness. He and Giles regarded each other for long moments before he looked to each of the others.

Zelinda was impassive, waiting for whatever Xander said. He could count on her. Despite Tarian's comment she still looked eager. Xander had to smile. Tarian was nothing if not gutsy. Crazy as a loon sometimes, and always irritating, but gutsy. Both Fulani and Carole looked apprehensive but seemed steady enough. Giles was unreadable, but from years of experience Xander knew he would do whatever was necessary, no matter how dangerous.

Cordelia was perhaps the most surprising of all to him. She looked to him with determined confidence, seemingly certain in his ability, certain of her own.

"Okay then, instead of hoisting a pint, how about we douse ourselves in it, then run like hell through that? Or better yet we'll just go to the nearest clothing store and see if asbestos suits have made the fashion comeback I always thought they would." Xander grinned at his own joke, but it quickly faded when he saw Giles' expression change to a thoughtful frown. "Uh oh. You just got an idea, didn't you?"

"Hmmm, perhaps we can't find asbestos suits...but we might be able to make do with something almost as good."

"And it's one that involves going through that?" Xander pointed at the flaming tunnel of death.

"Yes, it does. Good thinking, Xander."

Xander ruefully shook his head. "I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

"Teri was wrong," said Cordelia. "_That's_ the smartest thing you've said all day. All year, I'd bet." Xander's glare only made her smile get bigger.

Giles idea was a type of warding spell to deflect matter unbreathable to humans.

"It's something Willow came up with while we were working with her at Devon after, uh... the, uh, the _incident_." He eyes flicked down, as did Xander's, but he quickly plowed on. "Although her original idea was a way to breath underwater, by setting up a barrier that would only pass oxygen molecules. But with slight modification I believe it will work here."

Giles dropped his pack and upturned it to dump the contents. He examined and sorted through various items until he had the materials he needed, then thumbed through a dog-eared notebook until he reached the right page. He read through an entry and then sought out more materials from the other packs.

"Right. This should work to deflect the flames and most of the radiant heat, but there are still difficulties. The oxygen that filters through will retain much of it's heat and the surrounding rock will too, including the floor. So my advice is to hold a big breath of air and, well, run like hell. Because if you breath any of the ambient air it will feel like you're in hell."

Fulani jumped up excitedly. "Water! Back there!" She pointed back the way they had come.

"Lani, there's not possibly enough water to douse the fire," Giles explained patiently.

Carole interrupted. "No, we found a small pool in that last branch we checked, the one we didn't take. I think she means we should go back and get ourselves wet."

"An excellent idea! It's not perfect, but that should help a lot."

They trooped back to the site of Fulani's discovery, jumped in and splashed through the small shallow pool until they were as soaked as possible, and quickly sloshed back. The air in the caves was still surprisingly cool and Cordelia complained about freezing, while Giles worked to set up the incantation.

"In a moment that really won't be a problem," said Xander, watching as Giles bent to cast the spell. "How long will it work?"

"At least five minutes. Maybe ten," answered Giles after some delay. "Depends on how much salt is in these." Giles waved the sticks of beef jerky he'd collected.

"Alright, Linda and me first. If we get through successfully then you and Cordy, and then the rest of you."

"Why not two slayers first, just like before?" protested Tarian.

"Because three slayers can do cleanup detail better than two, if one of us falls down in there."

Tarian didn't like it, and it showed, but she kept her peace and formed up with Carole and Fulani, ready to go right after Cordelia and Giles.

"Do it," Xander commanded, nodding at Giles.

Giles quickly worked the spell and in moments the flames peeled back, leaving a narrow gap extending all the way through. It still seemed pretty bad though and Giles looked disappointed.

"That's as well as I can do, I'm afraid. Pure salt would have been better."

"It'll have to do." Xander started hyper-ventilating and Zelinda followed his example. She nodded her head once and Xander slapped her on the shoulder. They took one last great gulp of air before taking off into the narrow opening between the licking flames.

Xander nearly lost it the moment they entered. Despite the warding spell and his wet clothes, the flickering heat was intense and almost unbearable. He struggled to prevent himself from losing his breath, to keep on going, pushing as hard as he could. Ahead he noticed Zelinda was also having trouble, catching her once when she stumbled. He felt his clothes drying out fast, and wherever skin was exposed he could feel it getting parched, cracking open like the mud flats in Africa after the seasonal lakes receded. The smell of burning rubber wafted up from his shoes. The only part of Xander Harris that didn't feel like it was already on fire was his back, protected by the heavy pack which got heavier by the second.

The passageway seemed very much longer then at first. At some point he had to take a breath and Xander felt lava pouring down his throat. He cried with the effort to take only small breaths.

A fireball exploded on the right, and even though he knew the spell was working Xander flinched away, turning his head to see where it had come from. For a brief moment Xander wasn't looking down at the lumpy rocky ground as he stepped onto some small loose pebbles on his blind side. His leg started to slide out from under him and his ankle twisted. Xander flailed to keep his balance, reaching down with his hand to hold himself up, screaming when he touched the scorching rock. He yanked his hand back but hadn't regained his balance yet and instead fell to his knee, the jarring impact causing his helmet to roll off. Overbalanced by the heavy pack Xander toppled onto his side. Partially damp clothes started to sizzle and steam with the contact and the new pain bursting from that side made Xander howl.

Nothing like going out in a blaze of glory, he thought bleakly, as the pain started to engulf his vision. Scratch that, he wanted nothing to do with Glory. But he knew he was done for.

Zelinda hadn't seen him fall behind her and didn't turn back to look until she was all the way through. She screamed his name when she finally did make it and saw he wasn't right there behind her. Even though she knew it would probably kill them both if she tried to go back all dry now she started anyway. She hesitated only slightly when Xander waved her back and yelled at her to stop.

Xander didn't want Zelinda to come back and get him, knowing it would only get them both killed. Just before the pain nearly overwhelmed him and he would fall flat against the super-heated rock he felt strong hands grabbing him under his right shoulder and pull him up. Through the pained and heat-warped blurry vision he couldn't make out his rescuer's features and assumed it was one of the slayers. Another set of hands gripped his other side and they quickly pulled him through.

Xander didn't remember actually being dragged along, or whether or not he was completely out, or even helpful, but he blinked and gasped when he was suddenly bathed in blissfully cool air. He felt himself being unceremoniously dumped as he heard the two woman collapse themselves. When his vision finally cleared he noticed the slayer on his left was Fulani. He looked to his other side to thank the slayer who'd reached him first, Carole or Tarian, but saw Cordelia, looking bedraggled and limp, but otherwise okay.

He stared at her before he turned his head to see Giles, assisted by Tarian, pop through, followed by Carole.

All of them sat there, breathing deep of the relatively cool air.

"Sucks to be the marshmallow," quipped Xander in a painfully rough voice, shifting around to look over the situation. "Ow," he hissed in reaction to a sharp pain shooting up from his left ankle.

Giles passed his pack over to Zelinda, who dug out the first aid kit. Xander was by far in the worst shape of all of them and she set about looking after him first. "You have some mild burns," she announced after a few minutes, "but nothing too bad. You are very lucky." Then she probed around his ankle, watching his facial expression as she gently moved his foot about. "You may have broken something, I'm not sure." She continued to check.

"That fall looked pretty bad," said Giles judiciously. "If Cordelia hadn't gotten there so quickly the burns would have been much more serious. Fatal, perhaps."

"Cordelia?" Xander asked dumbly, turning to look back at her, still hardly believing the plain evidence.

Cordelia looked on wordlessly as Zelinda continued to gingerly probe and test his ankle.

"I do not think it is broken," Zelinda finally said. "It's probably sprained. We have aspirin and Advil, but no ice. Do not take the boot off, you must leave it on until we get out of this place."

At that moment, with an audible pop, the passageway that Giles had cleared, collapsed.

Giles looked back with a frown, then smiled in satisfaction. "Hmph! That lasted longer than I thought it might."

Xander looked thoughtful before his face registered shock. "Y-y-you mean there's a good chance you cou--"

"Yes."

"But why didn't you say anything?"

Giles bemused satisfied expression became serious as he addressed Xander. "What good would that have done?"

"I--" Xander stuttered to a stop as he understood the simple truth of Giles' statement. He bowed his head in acknowledgment. "How are the others?" Xander eventually asked, indicating the other slayers.

"I think a few small burns here and there, but otherwise we are in good shape, I'll check." Zelinda informed him.

Giles gave Xander a questioning look and Xander grunted and waved him off to go help Zelinda, leaving only Cordelia nearby.

Xander eyed her speculatively. Cordelia, her back to him, was attending to some detail he couldn't see.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she turned and asked when she heard some mumbling.

Xander knew she heard him the first time but repeated himself just the same. "I said--" he started again, "I said... Thank you."

Cordelia arched her eyebrow. "Ah, In other words, you mean I was right and you were wrong."

"Maybe."

She cocked her head slightly to one side, her expression a mixture of expectation and accusation.

"Okay, yes. You were right, I was wrong. It's a good thing you're here. Satisfied now, Cordelia?"

"Perfectly." She brightened suddenly as if a switch had been thrown, and she beamed a familiar megawatt smile at him him. "And no need to be so formal, doofus. Cordy's good." Standing, she held out her hand to him and Xander raised his to take it, expecting a helping hand up. When their hands almost touched she dropped some Advil into his palm. "Take two and call me in the morning." She smiled again at him and turned on her heel to go help with the others.

When Xander lifted his head to swallow the pills he saw Giles standing some distance away, looking at him with the beginning of smirk forming.

"What?" Xander peevishly demanded.

"Ah, ahem... nothing." Giles smiled. "Nothing at all."

Xander scowled after Giles retreating back.

---

Unlike most of their journey thus far, the present section of passageway constantly wound around on itself. And as they continued around the many twists and turns Xander realized they were getting too spread out. Giles had taken to moving up with the lead slayers and, although Xander could hear chatter from ahead and behind, they were far enough around the turns he couldn't actually see them.

He realized they were in a tactically vulnerable situation and called back to Fulani and Tarian for them catch up. When they came in view he increased the pace to catch up with Zelinda, Carole and Giles.

Xander caught a glimpse of Zelinda and Carole disappearing around the bend just before he heard them cry out and the sound of clanking metal. He ran forward as best he could on his injured ankle. When he cleared the corner he saw three dark shadows just beyond the two lead slayers, engaged in heavy fighting. Giles was down on the ground but seemed otherwise unhurt as he scrambled to his feet. Giles withdrew his sword and tried to work his way around the girls to add a new threat to the unrecognized demons.

Surprised that Tarian and Fulani hadn't already caught up, and even rushed past to help Zelinda and Carole, Xander unsheathed the shotgun and was preparing to push forward for a clear shot. But he stopped when he heard Cordelia yell out a warning from behind him.

Twisting back he saw more shapes come down the tunnel toward Tarian and Fulani, who were already fully engaged in a fight not ten yards from him. Part of his mind noted and was proud to see that none of the girls were panicking, each of them displaying their training and fighting as disciplined co-ordinated pairs.

However, as the fighters turned and maneuvered for position, and despite the tight confines, two demons were able to fight past the rear slayers and come at Xander and Cordelia, brandishing fingerless club-like arms.

Xander pulled the trigger and hit the closest demon on its side, but the demon's momentum carried it into Xander as his second shot went wild, sending buck-shot caroming off the walls in a shower of lead and sharp-edged chips. He brought up the gun and used it as a club against the wounded demon. Between the damage from the first shot and whatever effect his pounding had Xander was able to shove it away and into the second demon bearing down on Cordelia.

With the second demon spun around from the collision, leaving its side exposed, Cordelia stepped forward and whipped her sword into it, slicing deep.

Xander saw Cordelia's sweeping sword strike and grinned his admiration at her skill with it. He moved forward to batter at his demon with the gun, realizing in this disorganized melee that any missed and ricocheting shot could be more dangerous to him and Cordelia than the enemy. He saw her take off after putting the demon down. He continued to pound on his demon which was still gamely fighting on despite a loose appendage flopping about, some kind of orange-red fluid spraying everywhere from its wound. He finally was able to get the shotgun clear and, with no one around and at point-blank range, unloaded a blast at its head.

All around him Xander heard the sound of loud fighting: the desperate grunts and yells, the angry roars, the clashing scraping of weapon on weapon, or the sickening _thunk_ of weapon into flesh. The noise came from both in front and in back of Xander's position. He'd seen Cordelia finish off her demon and take off but couldn't remember which way. He decided to go help Tarian and Fulani, their fight having moved back around the curve. Just as he hobbled around the corner and spotted the engagement he was immediately taken down by a slayer being tossed into him. The slayer, he wasn't sure which one, jumped off him and rejoined the fight with a warbling banshee screech. Fulani, he figured. Tarian tended to growl rather than shriek.

Xander levered himself up, but before he could bring his weapon to bear he was immediately set upon by a compact bear-like demon with three eyes and multiple sets of razor teeth. He remembered seeing pictures of it in some book but for the life of him couldn't remember its name. More importantly, he couldn't remember its strengths and weakness. It didn't seem to have much skill at anything, but it was strong and very very fast. Xander unloaded a grazing shot at it, but its hairy pelt, which Xander realized wasn't even real hair, protected it.

Enraged, the demon barreled into him. Xander braced himself for the impact, trying to side-step at the same time and swinging the gun, but the demon followed the motion and the impact was like greeting a Mack truck head-on. Despite having braced himself, and favoring his good leg, his ankle gave way and he fell, the snarling demon on top of him. Xander struggled to push the demon away but his strength was failing and the demon's claws were tearing at him, getting closer and closer to slicing through his neck.

Suddenly the demon fell off, grunting in pain from a huge kick to its midsection. Xander looked up gratefully, about to nod his thanks to Fulani or Tarian. The sight of his wickedly grinning savior held him speechless.

"Fa--huh!" he blubbered.

"Hey, Xand! Love to chat but looks like I've still got some work to do!" Faith winked and waved to him before dashing off around the corner toward the commotion still coming from the front.

Twisting around to get off the ground, using the gun as a crutch, Xander followed as best he could. He caught sight of her in time to see her launch herself the fray of battle.

Xander made to follow but Tarian's shout brought him up short. Looking back it appeared more attackers had joined the fracas from behind. Tarian and Fulani were now barely holding their own against a pair of Ffipth demons, who were small, lightning fast and with a set of appendages like kitchen knives, a Montrusk Devil, and two vampires.

Not willing to take a chance with Tarian and Fulani so near the line of fire, Xander dropped the gun and retrieved a crossbow that had fallen to the ground. He got in a good shot against the Devil, the bolt burying itself in the gap between its upper and lower thoracic armor plates. It wasn't a killing shot, the bolt too small to do that much damage, but it paralyzed the demon for a moment, allowing Tarian's roundhouse kick to twist its head around and kill it.

It fell into one of the vampires, which gave Fulani an opening for her own killing blow. Xander missed the remaining vampire with the next bolt when it unexpectedly ducked. Feeling it would take too long to reload, and that his slayers would be worn out if the evidence of all the bodies laying around attested to, he dropped the crossbow and charged one of the Ffipth demons, hoping to at least keep it occupied while Fulani and Tarian dealt with the remaining Ffipth and vampire.

Xander's approach was good enough but his ankle wouldn't support his leap, which turned into more of a roll into the back of the Ffipth's legs. In desperation he attempted wrap up the demon and prevent it from reaching down and goring him with its horns.

He only had to struggle for a moment before the demon suddenly went limp in his arms. He looked up to see a huge brilliant grin plastered across Fulani's dark features before she turned to help Tarian with the remaining vampire. Against two very angry, very well-trained slayers the vampire barely lasted seconds.

Oddly, he still saw the remaining Ffipth, not killed by Fulani as he had assumed, still fighting someone. Fulani and Tarian also seemed astonished and stood back to watch. Meanwhile, Faith came up behind Xander and helped him to his feet, thumping him on the back. "We're finished back there," she crowed, "and it looks like you guys are nearly done here."

The two remaining fighters shifted around and for the second time in as many minutes Xander's voice caught in his throat. The Ffipth reeled back as its opponent delivered a blinding flurry of punches, capped by a powerful front kick to its midsection. Faith stepped forward at that moment and sliced its head off.

"Looks like our job here is done," Faith happily pronounced into the sudden quiet, broken only by everyone's labored breathing. The other slayers started to form up in attack postures around the newcomer until Faith stepped in. "Relax! He's with me."

Still speechless, Xander blinked when Faith's companion approached and nodded to him.

"Xander." The man looked Xander up and down, a certain distaste quite plain. "Looks like the knuckles are all better."

Shaking himself out of his confusion, Xander briefly looked down at his own hands before snapping his attention back. "Yeah. Yeah, some people get better. Some obviously don't. What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

Cordelia, who had been at the front of the fight, came stumbling back to help. In the wavering shadows cast by lights that had either been dropped or knocked away she didn't notice the tall figure standing in the shadow thrown by Xander's body. "Oh, God, Xander, are you okay?"

Xander hesitated before turning to let Cordelia know everything was fine. She rushed up to give him a quick hug, pulling away when he stumbled over a bit. Only then did she look around to assess the rest of the situation.

Cordelia's eyes grow wide as saucers when she recognized who was standing behind him.

"Angel!" she blurted out.

* * *

_to be continued in Part 5b..._


	6. A Horse of a Different Color

**Summary:** Adventures they'll have and people they'll meet.

**Spoilers:** Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA

**Rating:** Minor language, violence

**Acknowledgment:** My thanks to Theo for his input, ideas, and beta reading.

* * *

**Part 5b: A Horse of a Different Color**

Just as Xander had when Cordelia first arrived at Stonehenge, Angel rushed forward to gather up Cordelia in a joyous embrace. They hugged and cried in each others arms, Angel holding her fiercely, as the others looked on. After awhile they released each other and stood back a half step, Angel still gripping Cordelia's arms as his eyes drank in the sight of her and her brilliant smile. He leaned in again to kiss her as she turned slightly, only allowing Angel to kiss her on the cheek.

Xander was sure he wasn't the only one who noticed the momentary look of hurt and confusion that crossed Angel's face, though he suspected he was the only one to understand something significant had happened, even if he didn't know exactly what.

Angel finally became aware of the audience around himself and Cordelia and grinned sheepishly. Frowning, Xander turned and joined the burgeoning hysterics starting behind him with Faith, Giles and the slayers. Cordelia expressed muted enthusiasm in her greeting toward Faith. Angel held back, unsure of his reception. Giles and Xander nodded their greetings to the vampire. After a moment's pause Giles extended his hand to briefly shake Angel's. Xander and Angel just glared at each other, facial muscles bunching as both clenched their jaws.

When the initial celebration had run its course it was quickly decided they should move on to where the tunnel widened into a small cavern, with long sight lines to see any approaching attacker and plenty of places to defend. After verifying the worst they'd suffered was only scratches and bruises, everyone except Cordelia and Angel sat around Faith.

Faith became the center of attention as they all listened raptly to her story. Cordelia and Angel moved off from the main group, far enough away that even the slayers couldn't hear their voices. Xander got up and made an initial step to follow but quickly thought better of it, watching the pair for a few seconds before sitting back down. He shoved aside his concerns and returned to listen to Faith. However, every once in awhile, during a pause in Faith's breathless recounting, Xander would take a quick peek back to see Angel and Cordelia speaking in hushed whispers.

---

Angel's emotions were flip-flopping from barely contained elation to abject confusion and everything in between. "Cordy, I don't understand. I don't know what kind of miracle brought you back, but you're alive! You're alive!" he repeated. "We, we both made it! I'm so happy to see you again it hurts."

At Cordelia's sudden look he quickly amended his words. "Oh. No! No, no, not _that_ happy." Cordelia relaxed. "But it feels like, like...you're giving me the cold shoulder? And why the hell didn't anybody let me know you were back!" Angel looked over Cordelia at the group gathered around Faith and his eyes started to cloud yellow. He growled low in his throat. "Was it Xander? Is that meathead keeping you prisoner?" Angel took a threatening step around Cordelia. "If he's hurt you again I'll ki--"

With surprising force Cordelia shoved him back. "Whoa! Back up, Angel! In fact, make a complete U-turn. Xander hasn't done anything wrong."

Angel's disbelief showed and Cordelia felt the need to repeat herself, "Will you listen to me? Xander's done nothing wrong. _Nothing_, Angel! Xander hasn't hurt me, or kept me prisoner or anything like that. He, and Giles, and everybody here, have been nothing but kind and gracious, bending over backwards to help me any way they could."

Angel directed his angry accusing scowl at Cordelia. "Except they wouldn't let you call me! I know they're watching me, and I know they can reach me if they want to."

"Yeah, Uh, well...that...um," Cordelia appeared a little embarrassed and wouldn't look Angel in the eye. "That was...that was my decision, Angel, not Xander's. They offered to help me get back to L.A. and see you, or call you. Or whatever I wanted. But I chose not to, not yet."

Angel's eyes opened in surprised confusion. "What? But why, Cordelia? What happened?"

"It's hard to explain, Angel." Cordelia sighed. "There's just...a lot of stuff. Stuff I need to figure out. This really isn't the time or place to go over it..." She started to turn back toward the others.

Quickly, though as gently as he could, Angel reached out and pulled her back around. "No! Now _is_ the time. I'd have moved heaven and earth if I'd known you were alive, Cordelia. Di-didn't--you said...you said we were in love. Don't you remember?" Angel pleaded.

"Yes, I remember being in love with you," Cordelia agreed, her lips turning up in a sad reminiscing smile as she looked down at Angel's agitated hands. "Or at least thinking I was."

"Thinking?" Angel was stunned. "What are you talking about? You _said_ you were. And I know I was in love with you."

Cordelia lifted her head and flipped back a lock of hair. She looked directly into Angel's eyes as if she could divine the truth from the darkness in them. "Were you, Angel? Were you really in love with me? And not still with Buffy?"

"I..." Angel floundered, waving his hands, trying to think how to answer that.

Cordelia chuckled lightly and continued before Angel could finish his answer. "That night we were supposed to meet, but never did because Skip took me to the higher plane? Do you remember that night?"

Angel let his arms fall to his side and closed his eyes tightly. "Yeah. Sometimes I'd prefer to forget it."

Cordelia's eyes took on an unfocused faraway look as she went over her memories again, speaking her thoughts aloud. "I remember talking to myself that night, trying to figure out if the feelings I had for you were real. And I thought they were. I believed they were. But now...it's so...distant. It feels like, like, a memory of a memory. Someone else's memory. What happened that night, looking back now, it doesn't feel right. Like it was me but not really me at the same time, y'know?" Cordelia threw up her hands in confusion and let out an explosive breath. "God, I don't know anymore! I just don't." Her sad smile acquired a bitter edge.

Angel collected himself and argued, "But you weren't possessed by Jasmine until _after_ you came back. Before that it _was_ you."

Cordelia lost the smile but not the bitterness. "Yes, Jasmine. I was a passenger on the Jasmine horror ride while she drove. And I could do nothing about it." The recollections of what Jasmine had done with her body distressed her mightily, all the wanton killing the fallen Power had enjoyed, the pain she had inflicted on people, the chaos and destruction she had unleashed on a entire city.

Cordelia shuddered as she tried to put away the awful images." And you didn't really clue into that. Not until too late." She suddenly realized that was a big part of why she was upset with Angel now. Despite all the clues and misbehavior he never really figured out it wasn't her. Not until it was far, far too late.

"I was staying with Conner, for God's sake! Your son. I fucked your son, Angel. Isn't that kind of a whopping big flashing neon sign that _something_ was wrong with Cordy! But you didn't want to figure it out, did you? You just got all petty and sulky. And you saw us living in attics and meat packing plants. Me, Cordelia Chase! Staying in a meat packing plant? Hello! Anybody home?" A harsh brittle laugh escaped her but she sobered quickly, pausing before continuing on more quietly. "But you weren't," she sadly concluded in a soft voice.

"I-I'm sorry Cordelia." Angel hung his head. "I truly am. I just--"

Cordelia waved off Angel's apology. "S'okay, I suppose," she said, though her tone sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than already convinced. "Jasmine probably had some kind of hex going to make you extra dense."

"Then...we're good?" Angel asked uncertainly, looking up, beginning to hope Cordelia would now feel as he once remembered her feeling.

Cordelia shook her head once. "No, Angel, it's not good. Not for me. Because it had to have begun before all that, before the Powers or Jasmine or whoever suckered me in. I remember the things I did and didn't do when I was still me...sort of. The things I was thinking, the choices I was making, the way I treated you and everybody else. It's like 'was that really me?', 'cause I just don't understand the why of it."

"What are you talking about? You were fine before you ascended."

"Wesley." Cordelia's expression was stony.

"Wesley?" asked Angel. "What's he got to do with how you felt for me?"

Cordelia gave him a troubled glance. "When he was in the hospital with his throat slashed, and later when he was allowed to go home, I never once thought about going to see him. Not once! That's just...wrong, Angel. _I_ wouldn't have done that. I refuse to believe I would really have done that."

Unable to help himself, Angel grew angry. "Dammit, Cordelia, he stole my son! Why should you have seen that traitorous bastard?"

"I know he did something majorly wrong and heinous, Angel. But...it was Wesley! _Our_ Wesley. He was family. So he made some bad choices--really bad ones--but he's still family. You were as caught up in the false prophecy as much as he was. And in his own deluded way he was trying to look out for Connor just as much as you were. And I just totally shut him out like that? Was that really me?"

"Look, Cordy, okay, maybe I overreacted. But that doesn't mean you have to feel anything toward him or--"

Cordelia impatiently cut him off. "Angel, you told me Skip was in on it the whole time. That he was a key player in Jasmine's plan, right?"

"Uh, yeah. So?"

"Then how can we trust anything he was involved with?"

"Well, we can't, I guess," Angel cautiously answered.

"And if he was the one who gave me the demon-y powers to cope with the visions?" Cordelia prompted.

It took Angel a few seconds to follow the direction Cordelia was going with her arguement before he slumped back. He looked down, dejected, and began to pick at one of the stalagmites next to him.

"See? So maybe I thought I was in love with you, but I don't think those feelings can be trusted. And I don't feel it now, not that way. I'm sorry, Angel, but I, I'm not in love with you. Not that way, not now."

Cordelia stepped close to Angel and took his head between her hands, feeling the rough coolness of his cheeks against her palms, and gently turned him to face her. She made sure she had his full attention before speaking again. "I do love you, Angel. As a friend. A particularly bone-headed idiot friend." She cast an affectionate bemused look back at Xander, who just happened to be looking their way that moment. "But then, I'm kinda used to that."

"You're, you're tossing me aside for, for...Xander?" Angel spluttered, seeing the direction she had been looking, trying to retain some sense of dignity.

"No! I'm not tossing anybody for anything, you big lunkhead." Cordelia let go of Angel and rolled her shoulders before looking up thoughtfully. "I think I somehow knew. That I needed to sort everything out. And...maybe that's why I didn't call. Maybe I should have, and I'm sorry, but it's not easy coming back when you think you've died. It was just so much to deal with."

Cordelia almost laughed at Angel's downcast expression and how pitiful he looked. Angel appeared as far from losing his soul as he ever could. Cordelia punched him lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon, big guy, I think we should rejoin the others."

---

"Yeah, so Lorne tells me I gotta haul ass over here," Faith said to the group at large. "And drag Angel's along as well. I mean, I'm down with that. Lorne's cool. If the Jolly Green beanpole says to do something then you probably should. And well, hell, I ain't been over here in awhile so I figured you all got kinda soft and needed some help." Faith looked around appraisingly at her sister slayers. "Looks like I was right." Her wide smile took the sting out of the implied insult. Carole, who had worked extensively with Faith when she first arrived in Cleveland, returned her smile.

"So that clears up why _you're_ here with Angel, though I confess that's quite the devil of a story!" Giles scratched absently at his forehead before removing his glasses. He produced a dusty handkerchief from a back pocket. "But it doesn't explain why Angel has to be here," he finished with a frown as he tried to clean the lenses before putting them back on. Giles looked over at the vampire with a sour expression.

Faith also looked around before answering Giles' question. "I think Angel knows, but he ain't sayin'. Lorne tried to explain something about atonement and consequences but he lost me real quick. But, hey, Lorne's a straight shooter, I trust him. If he says Angel has to be here then Angel has to be here." She shrugged and held out her arms as if the responsibility wasn't hers.

Giles raised both his hands in a placating gesture. "That's fine, Faith, it is." The Watcher paused in thought and then blinked before giving Faith a quizzical look. "By the way, how _did_ you find us down here? There must have been a dozen or more branchings we passed, you couldn't possibly have searched them all. Not that quickly, anyway."

Faith smiled and tapped her nose before hooking her thumb at Angel. Chagrined, Giles nodded his head, "Ah, I see."

Xander snorted. "And I'm sure the marks I've been making didn't have anything to do with it."

"I like my explanation better." Faith smirked at Xander. "And that's what's goin' in the report!" She started laughing at her own joke and Xander joined in, chuckling. Faith abruptly stopped and continued her explanation. "Then we heard the 'signal' and came running."

"Yes, your timing was impeccable," Giles said sardonically. "But how did you know where to find us in the first place?"

"Didn't, G. Lorne said 'go to the Well'. Angel knew where it was. The marks in the tunnel were great, but if it weren't for Angel I would never have found that damn tree. And wicked cool, by the way!"

"A better question is how did you get past that fire pit of hell? Especially with Mr. Match-lite?" asked Xander.

Faith looked perplexed. "What fire pit?"

"C'mon, Faith!" exclaimed Tarian, "About twenty minutes back. We were nearly completely fried sunny-side up."

Faith sharply shook her head once, sending the dark hair curling around her shoulders flying. "Nope, didn't run into nothin' like that. Except for Angel's moping and whining--and that fight--it's been smooth sailing all the way."

"Huh," Xander grunted.

Giles sat back with his chin on his fist. "Perhaps it can only be activated one time, then lies dormant or disappears?" he pondered aloud.

"Did you stop in town? Did you see Will?" asked Xander, ignoring the older man.

"No, and uh-uh. Came straight from the airport. 'Sides, Red's still in Rio, right?"

"No, no, she's on her way here," Giles corrected her, "We're to meet with her tonight in town."

"Tonight? I hate to tell you, Giles, but it's already way past midnight. How d'you think we got here without a char-broiled Angel?"

"Really?" Giles looked down at his watch, which only indicated late afternoon. He held it up to his ear, shook it, and listened again, confused.

"Electric, baby!" crowed Xander before looking at his own watch. Giles grinned when Xander's confident smirk changed to a confused frown.

"I want to know why we were attacked," interjected Zelinda. "As Mr. Giles said, there must have been many different tunnels we could have entered. But they found us. They were waiting for us. Why? How did they know we were coming?"

Xander stopped tapping at his watch. "Maybe they weren't after _us_." He continued when Giles prompted him. "It's possible they weren't waiting for _just_ us. They might have been here ready to attack anybody. Maybe they're part of the test?"

"Demons? As a test for the Keeper?" Giles scoffed. "I find that difficult to believe. I won't profess to know the whys and wherefores for their presence, and I'm not dismissing the notion out of hand. But it's not surprising either. Aside from the Hellmouth--and a few other locations around the world--this Well," Giles spread his arms out to encompass everything, "is a nexus of some of the most potent demonic energy. It will attract them like--"

"Flies to shit?" asked Faith.

Giles looked pained at Faith's abuse of the English language. "Yes, quite."

"Knox worshiped the Old Ones."

Xander hadn't seen or heard Angel's approach and jumped when his voice broke in. He winced when he unintentionally put too much weight on his injured ankle as he tried to stand. He quickly sat back down, still grimacing as he massaged his ankle.

"He brought Illyria into Wolfram & Hart, but he must have had help apart from Dr. Sparrow. Fellow worshipers."

Giles slowly looked up at Angel, giving him a second of consideration before answering. "Yes," he agreed, "let's not forget the Old Ones. There must be many groups that would not want the Well protected, that in fact would want to see the return of the Old Ones. In retrospect, it's surprising how little resistance we've run into so far. In addition to the dangers of the Well itself, I must caution all of you this is likely only the first encounter with other agents of doom."

Tarian snorted. "There's always gloom and doom. I want to know if we should go on or go back?"

All eyes, even Angel's, turned toward Xander, who stood, pushing off Fulani's shoulder.

"We've still got plenty of supplies. We're rested now, and with Faith and...Angel...we're even stronger than before. We go on."

The slayers nodded their heads and everyone moved decisively to gather up their weapons and supplies. As people started to shuffle around to return to their original order Xander approached Angel and Cordelia, who were standing together.

"Angel, I'd like to talk to you please. Alone," Xander said, pulling the vampire aside. The words were polite, but Xander's tone made it clear it was not really a request. Angel was too surprised to resist. Cordelia rolled her eyes but did not follow.

Xander spoke in hushed tones, very aware Cordelia was watching them closely. He turned his back to her as he faced Angel. "Listen, Angel, I'm willing to accept your help and advice, and I'm glad for any you have to offer." He paused and looked carefully at Angel, eye narrowing. "Faith vouches for you and I'll accept that for now. But let's be absolutely clear about something."

Xander unconsciously took a small step forward, invading Angel's space. "Nobody apart from Cordy and Faith wants you here; you're not among friends. You have no authority here. You follow, you do not lead. Are we clear?"

Angel's expression darkened as he pulled himself up to his full imposing height, looking down at Xander.

Xander was visibly unimpressed. "This isn't like the last time we met. And if I can't handle you then there are four well-trained slayers who wouldn't hesitate a heartbeat to take you out before Cordy or Faith could stop them." With more important things on his mind, Xander didn't bother to match Angel's glare as he moved back to help finish up the preparations for moving on.

---

"So. What's her story?" Faith jostled Xander with an elbow as they walked side-by-side. "Last I heard from Angel, Queenie was dead or something." Faith's expression screwed up as she tried to remember exactly what Angel had told her. "He wasn't real clear on it." She glanced back. "'Cept that he was pretty clear on how he wouldn't clear it up."

Xander's gaze followed Faith's for a moment, glancing over his shoulder where, behind Giles, he saw Cordelia and Angel engaged in conversation.

"Or something." Xander turned back with an odd quirky smile that disappeared quickly. "She got better."

"Huh! Well that's nice then." Though Faith had enjoyed being the center of attention and holding court before everyone with her story, she hadn't failed to notice how quiet Xander had been, nor that he'd kept twisting around every few minutes to look at Angel and Cordelia. Faith made a gesture with her hands. "So are you and--"

"How's Robin?" Xander asked.

Faith laughed raucously, clapping Xander on the back--but not too hard--accepting Xander's clumsy deflection.

"Well, y'know, he's five-by--"

"Five?"

She grinned. "You got it."

"And you two? Everything's...?" Xander let the question dangle.

Faith played dumb and smiled mischievously. "Us two?"

Xander waited.

Unknown to anyone, he and Faith had established an odd friendship during his time in Africa. She had flown in to help corral a wild slayer, one who hadn't taken well to her new abilities and responsibilities and had been terrorizing a village. She wouldn't speak at all the few times Xander had been able to see her. It was Giles' suggestion to bring in Faith to help work with the girl, thinking a kindred wild spirit might be the best approach.

Unable to think of anything better Xander had reluctantly agreed. He had been anxious about dealing with Faith and had mostly kept apart from her, at first only interacting with her at the bare minimal professional working level required of the job. To his mild surprise though, Faith had been perfect for the new slayer, gradually establishing a rapport and gaining her trust. Faith had demonstrated amazing patience, not trying to force the issue as she eventually brought the new slayer into the fold.

Faith's behavior toward him had also been surprising, not pushing their relationship beyond anything Xander was ready for, but also making it clear she was open to something more than just being colleagues. Over the course of weeks they worked together finding and adopting a level of training and supervision the new girl would tolerate. Faith also helped him handle the ongoing supervision of current slayers. Though tentative at first, a real friendship had developed between Faith and himself.

Perhaps most surprising of all it had continued even after she had flown back to Cleveland. They continued to exchange occasional but regular email and letters; even a phone call once in awhile, usually asking each other for advice on something demon-y or slayer related. But sometimes they just shot the breeze, talking about things going on in their lives.

Some subjects never came up, including the darkest parts of their shared past history. It was never spoken of between them as they both seemed to understand they had left behind the people who had been on either side of an attempted murder. It was silently agreed that an apology would be useless and, to a real extent, unnecessary anymore.

Faith lowered her head and Xander leaned in to listen. "Promise not to tell no one?"

Xander expressed mock horror. "Of course, Faith. What do you take me for?"

"The biggest blabber-mouth on either side of the pond."

"I'm not as bad as Andrew," Xander said defensively.

"True, true." Faith took an overly dramatic look around, Xander copying her, and she dropped her bombshell. "We're thinking 'bout gettin' hitched."

Xander's double-take was absolutely genuine and his mouth flopped open without making any sound. Faith huffed and shook her head in disgust, as if she should have known better. She was pleased, however, to see how quickly got himself back under control.

"You're shitting me!" Xander exclaimed, borrowing one of her catch-phrases.

"Sometimes I wish I were. But...I really ain't." She shook her head and shuddered melodramatically.

Xander didn't say anything for several more seconds. "Wow!"

"Yeah, wow! Big wow!" Faith looked sideways at Xander with an imploring expression. "Maybe I'm makin' a big fuckin' mistake wow, y'think?"

Xander made what he hoped was an encouraging gesture.

"Hell, Xand, I'm no good with this shit. Use 'em and lose 'em. That's how it works. Or that's how it's supposed to work." She caught his flinch. "Sorry, I didn't mean--"

"No, it's nothing," Xander said, interrupting her apology. "Please, go on."

"This, this thing, two years now with Robin..." She shrugged her shoulders in confusion. "I'm twenty-three, old enough I'm s'posed to know what I want, yeah? But sometimes I feel like a little kid. Like I'm not ready to get married. And Robin's already talkin' 'bout gettin' a dog, too! I don't even want to think about what's next. A house? Kids? Jesus!" Her breathing started to come in quick shallow gasps and she was looking overwhelmed, displaying a side of herself Xander knew she never liked to show in front of anyone.

Xander wrapped on arm around her shoulders. "Whoa, Faith! Step back and slow down. Breath deep." Xander used one of the mantras he knew would always work to put Faith in a good frame of mind and calm her down. "Think about riding your bike down the PCH on a nice sunny day." It worked and soon she was calmer and more relaxed, the corners of her full lips upturned in a slight smile, eyes looking at nothing. Xander knew she was imagining the salty sea wind blow through her hair as she rounded through the turns on the winding coastal road.

"You guys _are_ getting along okay?" he asked after letting her go.

Faith's focus returned to the present and she bristled. "I said we were, didn't I?"

"Just making sure." He held up his hands. "I want to do something for you that might help." Faith raised her eyebrows expectantly, inviting him to continue. "Odds are everyone's been telling you about responsibility and settling down, growing up, paying bills, the whole big scary future." He glanced over to see her ducking her head in agreement. "And it'll all be true. Well, some of it anyway. But that's not important." Xander took a deep breath. "You love him, right?"

"We have our moments, but fuck yeah!"

"And I'm probably the last person who should be handing out advice about marriage and relationships. But I know this: Keep your eye on the prize and don't ever let it go. You make the choices, you decide your own future, don't let anybody else do it for you. If you see yourself together with Robin in your future, then grab hold of that future and make it yours."

She nodded her head slowly in time with her steps as she considered his advice. It was nothing Earth-shattering, pretty pat in fact, but it was a vote of confidence of a kind she could understood from someone she respected. "Huh. I'll do that. Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Xand."

"And Faith?" Xander stopped, reaching out to put his hand on her elbow, bringing her to a halt as well.

Faith turned, a little startled by the enormous grin plastered across his face. "Yeah?" she warily asked, thinking about taking a step back.

"Congratulations!" Before she could move he gathered her up in a big brotherly bear-hug, nearly choking the breath out of her despite her slayer strength.

"Hey, hey, hey! Let me go, you stupid fuck!" she laughed, swatting at him harmlessly.

Zelinda and Carole looked back in curiosity at the commotion behind them.

Faith laughed again as Xander set her back down and they picked up the pace again. "I'll tell you later," she informed her juniors, waving at them to keep moving.

"YOU DID WHAT?"

Cordelia's sudden, loud and angry outburst rang out and caused all other conversation to stop. Everyone halted and looked in her direction. Xander, quickly scrambling back to her despite his protesting ankle, found a mildly embarrassed Cordelia who wouldn't look at anybody, and a very much chagrined Angel who also wouldn't look at anybody. The rest of the group soon piled up behind Xander.

"What's going on, Angel?" growled Xander, stepping between the vampire and Cordelia. Before Angel could respond Xander glanced over at Cordelia and asked, "Are you okay?"

Brushing off her hands quickly, she gave him a small reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." Then she angrily waved at Angel. "It's him. He signed it away!"

"Signed it away?" asked Giles. Angel appeared to grow more and more uncomfortable, uncharacteristically fidgeting as everyone turned to stare at him, but he remained silent. "Signed what away?"

Angel shrunk into himself even further yet still maintained his silence. His expression gave away nothing.

Cordelia sighed and crossed her arms tightly, anger simmering just below the surface. "If you won't, I will," she threatened quietly.

Angel only shrugged minutely.

Cordelia took the gesture as assent and began pacing back and forth. "It's his prophecy," she began, "The Shanshu Prophecy."

"Shanshu? Prophecy? What's this? I've never heard of such a thing." Giles looked back and forth between Cordelia and Angel.

"It's complicated," Angel rasped.

"Angel becomes human after doing lots of good stuff," Cordelia supplied.

"Or not."

"So... you're presuming he could be kinda human?" Xander asked, incredulous.

"No!" Angel quickly objected. "I, I'm not...I signed it...away."

Cordelia stepped forward and punched him hard on the shoulder. "Dumbass!" she exclaimed, though with not nearly the amount of disbelief as the first time she heard it.

Giles cocked his head. "You signed it away? This prophecy, you mean?" Angel nodded. Giles stood back to consider the information he'd just heard.

"But why!" cried Cordelia again, still shocked. "This was everything you'd been working toward!"

"It was in the vision I got from you," Angel argued in his defense, and suddenly the words poured out of the previously reticent vampire. "It showed me who the real enemy was, who I really had to fight: The Black Thorn. But I needed to get all the way inside, to find out who they were, learn their strengths and weaknesses. I had to convince them to believe me, to accept me. I needed to prove to them I was on their side. So I...signed it. To show them I...I didn't...care, that I wasn't interested in being human. To get them to trust me." Angel threw up his hands and turned his back to her. "So no more Shanshu."

Cordelia didn't think she could be more surprised. She stood silently agape after Angel's explanation and shook her head, still not wanting to believe what Angel had just said, neither about his vision or the Shanshu. _How_, she wondered, _could he have gotten it so wrong?_ She didn't know anything about some vision he may or may not have gotten from her, or much of the details of what he thought he had to do. But damnit...

"You're unbelievable," Cordelia snorted.

Xander, in a rare moment of restraint, wisely made no comment or other obvious outward expression. Nothing this vampire did ever surprised him, no matter how reckless, dangerous or stupid. If Angel had had a shot at real honest-to-goodness humanity, and threw it away on some glorious stunt--one that left the world no better off afterwards than before, and arguably worse--then that was no skin of his nose. Except he and the people he worked with had to be part of the clean up crew. Again. He snorted softly. It was so goddamn typical of Angel, he thought.

Everyone looked over curiously when they heard Giles making an odd hiccuping sound. It quickly dawned on Xander that Giles was actually laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing, which was the reason for the strange noise. Unable to help himself, Xander smiled when Giles finally rolled back against the wall to support himself before sitting down on a large rock.

Angel, though not possessing the confidence of the champion he'd been only a few short years ago, could tolerate and accept many different reactions to his plight. He expected disbelief, anger, sympathy, frustration, exasperation...any number of reactions. Being laughed at was not one of them. Confused and angry, Angel jumped up and in one quick stride stood over Giles in a threatening manner. "What's so funny!" he demanded.

Giles, craning his neck up at the dark figure towering over him, was unimpressed. "You are, you stupid bloody prat!" Angel's deepening scowl set off another hysterical fit from Giles. Before Angel could do anything further, Fulani and Carole jumped in and pushed Angel back, their grim faces a dire warning in and of themselves

"Explain yourself, Giles!" Angel called over their shoulders.

With determined effort Giles was eventually able to control himself. He stood and spoke to the slayers in front of him. "It's okay, Carole, Lani. Angel won't be hurting anyone. But thank you," he said firmly, clearly indicating they weren't needed. Once the girls had reluctantly backed away, though poised to jump back in at the slightest provocation, Giles turned to address Angel. "It's like this, you ruddy berk. You _couldn't_ sign it away. It's not possible. And you of all peo--err, whatever--should have known that. That's what's so funny."

"Not possible? What are you talking about?" Angel's anger simmered, but Giles' casual and certain dismissal put him on the defensive, a position he instinctively disliked. "How could I possibly know what the situation really was? Oh yeah, because I was there! You weren't. They had the original scroll of the prophecy, and signing it the way I did invalidated it. I even signed with my own blood."

Despite his best intentions, and very probably because he was quite aware of the seriousness the situation warranted, Giles again burst into a fit of laughter. Fulani and Carole had to move quickly to restrain Angel.

Giles waved at the slayers. "Oh, let him go. He won't do anything." Giles looked up at Angel, completely uncowed by his menacing presence. He sighed tiredly before he continued. "Despite all the dreck you've read or seen or possibly been told, it's not possible for you to have signed it away. The Shanshu you called it, yes? And you're sure it's an actual prophecy?"

Cordelia answered for Angel. "We found it in the scroll of...Aber...crombie?"

"Aberjian," mumbled Angel.

"Whatever. Wesley figured out what it meant, that the vampire with a soul would become human one day. Well, okay, it didn't refer to him by name, but who else could it have been?"

"Spike had a soul," said Xander.

"Oh, puh-lease!" Cordelia dismissed that possibility out of hand.

"There were other references to the prophecy, that the vampire with a soul would die a human death. That meant I would first have to become human."

"And you're quite certain of its authenticity?" Giles inquired.

"Absolutely."

"Then you have your answer."

Everyone stared at Giles. Giles stared back.

"It's a _prophecy_!" Giles exclaimed, losing his patience, looking around for signs of understanding. When none were forthcoming he rolled his eyes and sighed again before addressing his friends. "You do know what a prophecy is, don't you?"

Everyone had thought they did but Giles' severe expression caused each of them to think a little more, to re-evaluate what little they knew.

Angel began, somewhat indignantly, "It's a vision of the future, a message--"

"Exactly!" Giles took a small quick step closer to Angel. "It's a message. And not just any message. It's a communication from on high. Literally, information from some higher source than us. The key aspect being that what it is _is_ a message, and that what it is _not_ is a contract. It can't be voided, canceled or signed away like, like, the goalkeeper for Arsenel."

Most still looked confused, though Angel's eyed widened as a new thought occurred to him. He pursed his lips and looked down as he worked it out.

Giles swept his gaze around at all his companions. "Don't you understand? It's the _meaning_ of the words which are important, not how the words are spoken, or the material they're written on or the language used. They only confuse and cloud and obscure the real meaning. Think about how many times we've run across this! Remember when the Master killed Buffy? We read the words, which added one layer of obscurity, and assigned our own meanings and assumptions, which added yet another. All this to something that may already have been garbled when it was written down. The real meaning we could never be certain of. That's how we beat it. Because we _never_ beat it: we just never truly understood it. And it's the same for all these so-called immutable prophecies we've ever come across."

Giles casually waved his hand to dismiss the subject. "And the blood bit? Piffle! Smoke and mirrors for the kiddies and dimwitted; doesn't mean a thing." Giles turned to Angel with a stern yet somber and sympathetic manner, and spoke softly. "You were tricked, Angel, and you fell for it. It's as simple as that."

Angel sat down, expression slack. He swallowed once. "You--" He swallowed again. "You, you mean I still could--"

"Yes. Nothing's changed. But as I said, we most likely don't know the true meaning of this 'Shanshu'. I know Wesley was quite good at these things, winnowing out that underlying meaning. Better then myself I'm forced to admit. But there's always room for misunderstandings and mistakes."

Angel nodded sagely, remembering how Wesley was fooled with regard to Connor. Finally convinced, he relaxed as he thought some more about the implications.

"Huh!" A smile began to form on Angel's face.

Cordelia immediately brightened. "What 'huh'? That's fantastic!" she enthused. "You can still Shanshu!" Then she slapped Angel hard, remembering the reason for her anger. "But I can't believe you'd even think of such a thing. What happened to everything I told you? I get you back on track and no sooner am I gone then you get derailed again. You were just going to throw that all away?"

"But the vision--" Angel started, then stopped. He worked his jaw, then looked back at her, accusing and apologetic at the same time. "I got it from _you_."

Cordelia snorted. "Look buster, I don't know what you thought you saw after I left you, but there's no way I'll ever believe it meant you were supposed to throw everything away in one insane-o comic-book hero gesture."

"But we needed to stop them."

"By stopping it everyday, in everything you do." She looked up as she recited what Angel had once told her. "If what we do doesn't matter, then what matters is what we do. Remember? Every day, every moment. Helping the helpless. That's how." Cordelia gave a small encouraging smile which faded to a look of disappointment. "But you gambled, went for the non-existent knockout, and threw it all away."

"But we won, we stopped them," Angel said, his voice acquiring a whiny argumentative undertone, as if he were being scolded like a small child. The argument was beginning to sound weak even to his own ears.

"For how long, Angel? At what cost? Were you even thinking about the consequences?" Cordelia sighed theatrically and gently grasped his hands in hers, smiling sadly. "You just never learn, do you? That's supposed to be Xander's job, not yours."

"Hey!" squawked Xander, but one quick warning look from Cordelia stopped any further protest.

Carole and the other slayers had been getting restless while the talking heads yapped. "What do we do now?" she asked apprehensively.

"Nothing has changed?" Giles commented dryly. "We go on?"

"We go on," agreed Xander.

This time Faith went out in the lead with Zelinda and Carole. Just behind them, Xander listened in for awhile as Faith teased the stolid German and her partner. He listened and watched long enough to satisfy himself Zelinda still kept a watchful eye out even as she parried the senior slayer's verbal jabs. Despite Carole's initial reluctance, Faith's infectious enthusiasm for everything dangerous soon had Carole hopping along and smiling and joking back.

Angel, on the other hand, tried to fall to the back of the group. Having a vampire behind her made Tarian very irritable, even though she was assured he wasn't a threat. Sooner rather than later, and after many dirty looks and grousing complaints from Tarian, many grumbled in Welsh and sounding extremely vicious, Angel reluctantly moved ahead of Tarian and Fulani and settled in just behind Giles.

Giles, though not inclined toward geniality toward Angel, at least seemed to tolerate his presence. Tarian gave her cross-bow to Fulani and told her to keep it ready. Fulani nodded her solemn agreement and kept it pointed at Angel's feet, ready to bring it up in an instant. Tarian kept her sword and stake out and ready, her eyes never leaving Angel's broad form.

Cordelia surprised Xander again. After their little blow-up, and then believing she would want to stay with Angel and continue catching up, he was almost shocked to find Cordelia at his side again. After all that transpired between them, good and bad, and being very aware of Angel's presence, Xander felt extremely awkward and didn't know what to say. He gave her a quick acknowledging nod and kept quiet.

He thought she had to be feeling the awkwardness as well. It began to annoy him that she seemed blissfully unaffected, even finding the entire situation oddly humorous, if her small beatific smile was any indication. It left his thoughts all mixed up about how he felt towards her.

One element of Xander's confusion was that, in some ways, he still considered himself in mourning for Anya, or thought that he still should be. But the preceding week with Cordelia had changed everything. Although the nightmares still woke him, they didn't reoccur every night as before. And when he woke up in the morning he found himself looking forward to the day instead of dreading it. Just in general he had started feeling pretty good about the future, which was a little worrisome in itself, but he figured he could learn to deal with it, given enough time.

The newfound optimism hadn't changed even as they fought over her participation in this mis-adventure. Nor was his optimism affected by the knowledge that Cordelia's close presence could not be indefinite. He was just determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

But Angel's unexpected--and very unwelcome--appearance, and knowing he and Cordelia had shared something much more than just friendship, threw a huge wet blanket over those good feelings. It didn't help that Xander understood Angel and the others got to know Cordelia at her best, to see what he knew she could be. _Got to see what I threw away._ he berated himself. _Am I...jealous of Angel?_ he wondered as he stomped along beside her. His unproductive musings made him more and more irritated with himself, gradually building to a boiling point.

"Why are you here?" he grumbled.

Cordelia heaved a sigh. "We've been over this before, doofus, remember?"

"No, I don't mean here. I mean _here_ and not there," Xander said gruffly, first waving at the spot beside him then pointing behind him.

Cordelia turned her head as she continued to walk, her gaze lingering in Angel's dour form.

"He loves you, y'know. He's under the impression you were--are--in love with him." Xander blurted out, then immediately winced and cursed himself for sounding like a jealous hormonal teenager.

Cordelia's attention snapped back to Xander. "He told you that?" He had never spoken about it at length to her, but Cordelia knew Xander had confronted Angel at some point after returning from Africa. She strongly suspected she may have been one of the issues. From reading between the lines, listening to things not said and other hints she also suspected the confrontation had not gone well, not for either of them.

"Not in so many words."

Xander recalled his one and only encounter with Angel since Sunnydale. After returning from Africa he had reviewed the reports of the battle in Los Angeles. He eventually noticed how everyone's name was mentioned, including people he had only heard of second hand such as Charles Gunn, and even the woman with the unlikely name of Fred. He saw all their names and read of their outcomes. All except one: Cordelia, who wasn't mentioned at all. Xander immediately went to Giles to ask about it. A half hour later he was driving to Heathrow and was on the very next flight back to the States, bound for Los Angeles.

It hadn't taken long to track down Angel. The local slayers kept tabs on him, not interfering with the vampire's activities but just maintaining a constant vigilance. Just in case.

When Xander burst in upon Angel, living in one of the rooms in his dilapidated hotel, it hadn't mattered that Angel was as distraught as he was over Cordelia's demise. At first Angel had tried to explain the events leading up to her death, how things got out of control, how someone he kept calling his son was involved, how a woman named Jasmine was related to Cordelia.

But Angel's explanations were halting and confused, barely touching on the details of Cordelia's final days. Xander had gotten increasingly frustrated and angry when Angel wouldn't provide a simple answer to a simple question: what happened to her? The confrontation had gone from bad to worse when Xander accused him of virtually killing Cordelia himself. Something had snapped in Xander when Angel abruptly refused to respond anymore. He stepped up to the larger man, putting everything he had into an uppercut that would have taken a normal person's head off.

The punch had accomplished little but leave Xander with a few broken fingers.

The ensuing clash had been both brutal and quick. Xander later figured the only reason Angel hadn't killed him right then and there was that he recognized a kindred soul in their shared love and loss. Angel apparently had taken the time to bandage up a semi-comatose Xander before literally tossing him out onto the curb. Xander still didn't know why he had made the effort, but it took a lot of work to convince the slayers who'd found him to leave Angel alone.

"It was pretty obvious," Xander added simply when he returned to the present.

Cordelia glanced back over her shoulder at Angel and sighed. She had told Angel they were still friends, and she honestly believed it, though she wasn't certain what more there could be with Angel. But her relationship with Angel, past, present and future, was not something she cared to discuss with Xander, not at this time, not in this place.

Nor was she entirely certain about Xander. That they would be friends now, good friends, was established beyond doubt in her mind. She was comfortable with that, even looking forward to it because it was something they never really had a chance to do before. Nowhere in their ongoing cycle of mutual hatred, passion and pain, and finally reconciliation had they had a chance to just be friends. _And maybe that's why things ultimately failed_, she mused to herself. She very much wanted it to be different this time.

_This time?_ That thought surprised her. _There's going to be a this time?_ Though continually astonished by it, Cordelia was forced to admit to herself just how strongly she was affected by Xander, something she had noticed the very first night back in Saxmundham.

In some ways there was the same intensity she had felt in high-school, a force governed almost entirely by lust and hormones, at least at first. In other ways the attraction was new and different. _He's certainly grown up a lot. But is it as simple as that?_ she thought anxiously. _What if there's something else going on?_

She most definitely wasn't sure how comfortable she was about that likelihood. Just as with Angel, could she trust that her feelings were real this time? Given the circumstances surrounding her seemingly miraculous return could she in fact be experiencing the same thing as before, that her feelings were not her own?. She shivered, dreading that possibility.

Xander watched Cordelia carefully and assumed her silence was an invitation to continue. "So, are you..." he hesitated, unsure how to phrase his thoughts, not pleased that Angel would almost certainly hear what he was about to say.

Cordelia started, shaking herself out of her reverie. "What?"

Xander looked back. Angel seemed lost in his own thoughts and didn't appear to be paying much attention to anything other than following behind Giles.

"Are you and Angel, y'know, 'you and Angel'?"

Cordelia laughed a little, with some sadness mixed in, seeing the green-eyed monster in the tunnel beside her, which also amused her a little. "Jealous, Xander?"

"No!" he too hastily replied. "Of course not."

---

A relatively long and straight section greeted Xander's party. When some of the more powerful hand-held torches were raised to see as far ahead as possible, a metallic gleam was seen winking at them as the light beams jiggled slightly. If it was another golden signpost, and it did appear to be the right color, then it would have to be the largest and most unobscured marker they'd found yet. Unconsciously their pace increased as if they were physically being drawn forward.

Ahead of him, Xander saw Faith reach down and scratch at her leg. Then her walk became a little zig-zaggy, like a drunk trying to maintain a straight line. Behind her Carole and Zelinda both stopped. Before Xander reached them to ask what was going on he felt an odd numbness in his injured foot and a pins-and-needles sensation crawling up into his legs.

"What the hell--" In seconds his legs felt like lead and he couldn't seem to take another step forward. Carole, still several yards ahead, looked at him in panic. Something in her eyes convinced him they were all in danger.

He yelled back at everyone, but it came out as a croak, "Hold it! Go ba--"

Xander saw Cordelia stop as his own legs slowly gave way. He collapsed into a sitting position, falling back against Zelinda. Groggily he turned his head and noticed Zelinda was in fact completely prone and appeared to be unconscious. With dulled mind, his last memory was of Carole slumping over Faith.

---

Everyone, including the slayers, was either lying down, or at most sitting, massaging and working their legs and arms, trying to get feeling back. Only Angel was moving about easily as he went from person to person checking on their condition and progress.

Each of the slayers except Faith were diffident toward the vampire. He hurried on after a brief pause to verify they were doing well while they continued to stretch and work the feeling back into their muscles. The ordinary humans, Xander, Cordelia and Giles, took longer to recover.

Angel lingered over Cordelia until she impatiently shooed him away. Angel took one glance at Xander and didn't even bother to approach, instead moving to check on Giles, who seemed to be having the most difficulty recovering. He was still lying prone, barely able to lift his head off hands that had been positioned to act as a pillow.

"Okay, what was that?" Xander asked, not speaking directly to anyone.

Giles smiled gratefully as Angel sat him up and started working his limbs as a masseuse might. "Some sort of numbing field. Despite your warning it caught us all," Giles replied, his tongue heavy and he slurred the words.

Xander turned to Giles, mildly surprised. "But you were pretty far back from us, weren't you?"

Giles was able to shrug. "It seems to have spread and caught us all before we knew what was happening."

"Then you didn't rescue us?" Xander's confusion was plain in both tone and expression.

"No. He did." Giles looked up at Angel. "Ah, err...thank you for that, by the way." He addressed Xander again. "He saved all of us." Giles just quirked his lips in response to Xander's frown.

"You're welcome," Angel answered. "It's fortunate that whatever it was didn't affect me." Xander glanced up to see Angel approaching again, critically looking him up and down before he completed his answer to Xander. "I was able to drag everyone out past it."

Xander pursed his lips and didn't say anything at first, curious about something. "How did you know how far to go?" he finally asked.

"I didn't. I just kept moving until one of you started to regain consciousness," Angel answered in a self-deprecating tone, adding a small smile.

Xander blinked in acknowledgment. He looked away and returned to the task of massaging his legs. Though still a bit wobbly Xander was soon able to stand on his own, uncomfortably aware Angel was still watching him from a distance. Xander straightened to his full height, groaning at the new sharp twinges on top of those from his ankle, and stared back, waiting until Angel looked him in the eye. The moment filled with a tension clearly felt by all those near by, making the slayers restless.

"I guess I owe you one," Xander finally spoke. A tiny smile flitted across his face as he ruefully acknowledged his implicit apology, glancing at Cordelia. "I seem to be saying that a lot these days. I'm not sure how happy I am about it."

Angel's shoulders shifted and he nodded. "I don't expect anything from you, Harris. Just..." A genuine grin suddenly broke out on Angel's face as he stole a quick look over at Cordelia, "...helping the helpless."

Xander struggled for a moment to overcome the urge to needle the vampire, who started to return to where Fulani and Tarian were forming up. "Angel?" he called out. Angel stopped and turned partway, presenting his profile to Xander.

"Thanks."

Angel dipped his head almost imperceptibly and continued.

Xander stared after him for a few more moments before turning around to verify Zelinda and Carole were ready to go. Then he checked on Giles and Cordelia. He gave a puzzled frown when he noticed Cordelia smiling at him.

Trying to ignore her, Xander shook his head sharply and barked out his command. "Let's get going."

---

It seemed they had barely gotten started again when, after negotiating a tight corner, Xander and Cordelia literally lurched into the three lead slayers, all standing stock-still. Xander was about to ask them what was going on when he looked past them and saw the reason. He turned when he heard Giles and Angel, and then Tarian and Fulani, noisily skid to a stop behind him.

Everyone gaped.

The tunnel had opened up into a huge cavern. Without a sense of scale to judge by it appeared large enough to contain all of Sunnydale, with plenty of room left over. The walls and high coruscated ceiling, what little detail they could make of it, all seemed to glow with a shimmering emerald green light. On the floor, over to the left, towering stalagmites crowded among each other like a rocky silhouette of Manhattan, pointing up at equally large stalactites hanging from the faraway ceiling. On the right could be heard the sound of falling water from an unseen waterfall. A burbling creek snaked out from behind a rocky shoulder and led into a small lake shrouded by curtains of mist. The far side was obscured, made nearly invisible by the distance, stalagmites, hanging mist and dim light.

The light itself was a green-tinted glow that filled the vast cavern yet didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular. Unlike the sickly, almost nauseating light that had permeated the Well itself, this hue was bright and clean, immediately giving the observer an eerie feeling of calm well-being. Dotting the monochrome background were multi-colored sparkles that glinted from every surface, adding an almost festive note to the surreal scenery.

Several seconds of awe-inspired silence passed.

"Well I'll be fucked!" whispered Faith. Everyone either nodded their head in silent agreement or just continued to gape at the sight.

"It's one of the most incredible things I've ever seen," said Giles.

"Mein Gott, es ist unglaublich!" finally breathed Zelinda.

"Whatever she said," murmured Xander in agreement, his head slowly rotating to take it all in.

"It's quite believable. The light is from a form of the native lichen. Though I'm not sure about the source of the multi-colored lighting effect. I agree, it is quite the sight."

As a group everyone jumped at the sound of the voice from behind them, especially the slayers, who where not at all used to being surprised so easily. If everyone had been shocked and stunned by the incredible space they were in, they were now flabbergasted by the strange man, or at least what appeared to be a man, before them.

The stranger was dressed as an Argentine gaucho, wearing loose bombachas trousers held up by a wide leather belt with intricate stitching. Canvas shoes adorned his feet and a wool poncho was casually swept over one shoulder. He sat serenely, sipping mate from a silver straw.

"I see you got our message after all; it did seem to take entirely too long." The man shrugged, causing the front flap of the poncho to fall back over him. He smiled broadly. "But you're finally here, so no matter."

Despite the affected costume he was wearing the stranger spoke in precise and clipped English tones, very much like Giles, only much more supercilious.

Angel peered intently at the stranger while scratching the back of his neck, desperately trying to place the face.

"Message? What message?" asked Xander. "I check my answering machine and mail daily. I don't recall getting any messages. Giles?"

Giles gave a confused sort of shake of the head.

"Nothing so crude and low, good sir. I'm referring, of course, to your companion. It is fortunate she is here, we will have need of her."

"Her?" Xander looked at the slayers arrayed around him, each of them holding weapons poised and ready, but otherwise making no threatening moves. "Who her?"

Giles got frustrated with Xander's inane questioning and broke in. "Hold on just a moment. Who the devil are you? What are you doing here?"

"You are quite correct." The gentleman bowed his head in apology. "We should begin with proper introductions. You may call me--"

"Jeeves!"

All heads swiveled to look at Angel, seeing his face taut with rage and despair, visibly struggling to prevent himself from vamping out.

"What?" Xander asked, "You know this guy?"

"Ah yes, the one you call Angel. Almost unique, a vampire with a soul." The gaucho considered Angel, and smiled in a way that made Xander itch to wipe it off with his fist. The gaucho turned to address the remainder of his answer to Xander. "It is easily explained, sir. Your friend--"

Xander hacked once and hard.

The strange gaucho assayed a small smile and inclined his head. "--acquaintance, then?" Xander shrugged. He continued smoothly, "He and I have conducted business before, business of a high order." The man now addressed Angel. "But Jeeves is not my name, fallen one. You may call me..." He looked up in thought, seemingly unsure of himself. Suddenly his face cleared and he smiled. "Envoy. Yes, Envoy, that seems a good name. Nice, vague, yet also profound and mysterious, not too pretentious."

"Says you," muttered Faith.

"Envoy? Why Envoy?" asked Giles.

"Would you prefer Jack?" Envoy asked in genuine curiosity. "I've always had a fondness for the name Jack."

'Jack the demon' ran through Giles' head and he quickly squashed that thought. "No, no! Envoy's fine."

Envoy's form suddenly shifted and looked the part of a well-dressed butler.

"How did you do that?" asked Tarian.

"I merely moved, child. You are seeing only a three-dimensional projection of my true five-dimensional form. Angel is most familiar with this view of me and I thought it might make things smoother."

"Are you one of the Powers?" asked Cordelia, "'cause I got a complaint to lodge!" She heard Angel snort derisively but kept her attention on Envoy.

Envoy turned toward Cordelia. "Powers? Who or what is that?"

"Y'know! _The_ Powers," she said, making air quotes with her hands. Her brow furrowed as she expected him to understand. "The Powers That Be."

"Be What?" Envoy asked, appearing genuinely perplexed.

Cordelia sighed and sat down on a nearby rocky shelf. "Forget it." She crossed her legs and already looked bored with the situation.

Giles spread his arms wide and asked, "So we're in a five-dimensional plane?"

"Oh no. In a way, you're still in your world, just simply not where you started." Envoy turned slowly to look at everything around him, speaking as he turned. "This 'Well' as you call it, passes through and impinges on almost all the known dimensions and realities. It represents a common focus, a place where we could seal away a common enemy and threat to all: the Old Ones.

"And therein lies our issue," Envoy explained, arms still spread but glancing over at Giles. "Just as the Old Ones are a menace to all realities, all realities this Well impinges on must provide a guardian. If there is weakness at any point then they could use that dimension as a place to begin their conquest and domination all over again."

"A jumping off point, you mean? Like a staging area?" asked Xander.

"An apt description," agreed Envoy.

"That'd suck," mumbled Carole.

Envoy nodded grimly. "At the very least."

"Can we get back to the message bit?" demanded Xander. "You said 'she'."

"Indeed. You are all here deliberately, representing some of the best characteristics of your kind. Your two groups, separately and together, were at the forefront of this fight against the darkness. We have here the intellect," Envoy indicated Giles, "the fire and passion," he continued, nodding his head toward Faith, "and the heart and soul of each of your groups." He finished by pointing in turn to Cordelia and Xander.

"You mean Cordy?" Xander exclaimed before he smirked, "she's got a heart?"

"Indeed she does, as you're quite aware of." Envoy smiled tolerantly at Cordelia before he shrugged. "And she also happened to be at the right place at the time."

"This sounds like deja-vu all over again," mumbled Xander, "You wouldn't happen to be related to ADAM, would you?"

Giles jumped in. "Assuming we believe you, what are you doing here? What's your purpose?"

"Why, I'm here to oversee the rites you and the others and your candidate will participate in."

"Candidate?" Giles asked in confusion, twisting around to look at everyone.

"To be the Keeper, of course. The Guardian of The Well. The new Battlebrand." Envoy frowned uncertainly and regarded Giles carefully. "That _is_ why you're here, isn't it?"

"Ah, well, yes. But our, um, candidate? We're, ah, we're still working on that detail."

Envoy's eyes widened in surprise. "Interesting, since here he is." He raised his hand and gestured toward Angel with an upturned open palm.

"Angel!" "Me!"

Everyone was incredulous, none more so than Angel himself.

"But he's a vampire!" objected Xander, "He's evil!"

Angel took the time to scowl at Xander. "I'm not evil. Most of the time." He turned to Envoy. "I'm also not the man you want."

"Truer words were never spoken," muttered Xander, who grunted softly when Cordelia sharply elbowed him.

Giles motioned to quickly shush him. "Children, can we save the name-calling for whenever we get out of this mess?"

Envoy regarded the three males with quiet amusement before sharing a look of exasperation with Cordelia. "Yes, he is a vampire. And as each of you represents a noble human facet, the Keeper _must_ be a true representative of your world, of your humanity. That is also necessary. But it is not a prerequisite." He looked squarely at Angel and his voice dropped so that only the vampire could hear him. "And there are debts and obligations." The long silence hung heavy, weighing down on Angel's shoulders.

Envoy's expression quickly changed, smiling pleasantly as he spoke up again so everyone could hear. "Therefore, if he proves worthy of this exalted service, the rite of investiture, the Tzian x'Chooe, will take care of that in due course."

Angel went rigidly still, his face drawn into a stunned expression.

Cordelia shook her head violently one time and put her hand to her ear, as if trying to clear it. "I'm sorry, but..." The second part of it had sounded more like a sneeze than anything else. "Did you just say... 'Shanshu'?" 

_To be continued..._


	7. Fly, Fly, Fly

**Summary:** The going gets rough.

**Spoilers:** Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA

**Rating:** Minor language, violence

**Acknowledgment:** My thanks to Theo for his input, ideas, encouragement and beta reading. This story would not exist without him.

**AN:** Well, it's finally here, the next chapter of Tinman. I'm checking the last update and it's been over a year. That's ridiculously late, I have no real valid excuse, and I'm sorry. On the other hand, it came in at over nineteen-thousand words and so I split it. What this means is you get a nice holiday gift now (this part), and in a few weeks you'll get part b to start off the year. Cool, yeah?

But be forewarned. This is not the most inspired writing I've ever done or that you'll read. It's quite dull in places and rather dry in others (ha ha). But there are some really good bits here and there and so I hope in the end you enjoy the read.

* * *

**Part 6a: Fly, fly, fly **

"No, I don't believe so. I said '_Tzian x'Chooe_', which is the rite we will use to endow the Neerinavar, our candidate, Angel, to be the one who will forever be guardian of your reality."

"Forever?" asked Xander in a small, disbelieving voice.

Envoy looked towards Xander. "Perhaps an overstatement," he conceded. "And quite oversimplified. Angel will not be immortal. No human can be." He returned his attention to Angel. "But the span of your human years will be much longer than any of theirs."

"So I won't really be human," murmured Angel, a flicker of optimism quickly quenched.

He had learned the hard way, time and time again, to not dare believe anymore. In some ways it was both a blessing and a curse to be among these humans again. It reminded again of the importance of the fight against darkness, what it was he was fighting for in the first place and that in fact it was _still_ important to him. He'd continue again, at least in some capacity, no matter what happened here.

But Angel also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that for himself there was nothing else. As it probably should be the fight alone was all he would have. Hope, and the hope of reward, was selfish and foolish, so typical of the very humans he was fighting for. He cursed himself for a fool, surprised by how quickly and easily the bitter lesson had been forgotten. He blamed it on being around humans again. His eyes flicked to Cordelia, standing next to Xander, who seemed genuinely pleased, and back to the ground in front of Envoy's feet.

Though Angel had spoken very quietly, Envoy heard him nonetheless. "Quite incorrect, vampire. You _will_ be human. It is necessary. Your lungs will fill with air, your heart will beat, your skin can once again feel the warmth of the sun." Envoy waved to indicate everyone. "You can be killed as they can," he added airily. Envoy then focused intently on Angel. "Should we succeed there will be no curse upon your soul," he solemnly pronounced, "and in a very real way you, Angel, will cease to exist." Grim, Envoy suddenly smiled. "And there's the rub."

"No curse on his soul? But how, how is this possible?" asked Giles, startled.

Angel, on the other hand, had a different reaction, with a tired and resigned expression. "There's always a catch. What is it this time?"

"We have almost everything we need to begin. We have you, Angel. The site is nearly ready. Our witnesses are gathering, the souls of the best of your groups in the struggle against the darkness are present. The Califantos Laheera--the light that shines the way--is among you." Xander swiveled his head to see who he meant by that, but Envoy had given no clue and he couldn't tell. Xander returned to listening to Envoy. "But we lack the Pevasor Adnihilo, the last necessary ingredient in our little recipe."

Giles bowed his head in concentration, rubbing his hand along his chin. "Ah, annihilate the... invader?" Giles asked, looking up at Envoy for confirmation. "And I suppose, in this context, the 'invader' is the demon within?. It would mean death of the demon?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Envoy in almost a parody of a game-show host praising a contestant. Envoy smiled slyly and winked. "Sometimes we just call it the 'Annihilator'."

"Sounds like a monster truck," Xander quietly observed, eliciting laughter from Faith and Carole, while Cordelia rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Indeed." Envoy cleared his throat. "Because of Angel's nature we will need the help of this 'Annihilator'. Once the demon has been dealt with, the investiture can be completed." Envoy stopped with an expectant expression as he looked at each person one by one.

"A-a-and you want us to get it for you?" cynically guessed Xander.

Envoy seemed overjoyed, almost ridiculously so, as he clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Ah, such a bright group of humans! I knew I could rely on you. The others will be most pleased, most pleased indeed. With this in hand we can begin straightaways. Upon successful completion, of which I have little doubt, Angel will immediately assume and bear the burden of his position as the Keeper of the Deeper Well, Battlebrand, Guardian and Protector of your kind. Of all our kinds."

"Why do I have the feeling this won't be as easy as it sounds?" Angel muttered.

"Because, for a low being derived from humanity, you are reasonably intelligent."

Xander started choking on the trail mix he had just dug out of his pack. Envoy looked amused. "Some of the time."

Giles impatiently waved the others to silence. "But this, this Pevesor Adnihilo, this Demon Death, I've never heard of such a thing." During all his team's research and investigations they had seen no reference, nor even an oblique hint of a reference, to such an artifact. In fact he had never heard of any such thing at all during his entire tenure as Watcher. Such a thing could have been invaluable if they'd but known of it. "What is it? What does it look like? What form does it take? How are we to find it?"

"I don't know," calmly answered Envoy.

"You don't know?!" Giles exploded. He was incredulous.

"Is it a monster truck?" asked Xander, grinning idiotically. He could just picture himself driving one, squashing Angel under the tires.

"I seriously doubt it," said Envoy with a hint of smile, answering Xander's question first. Then, more soberly, he answered Giles. "No, I don't. I'm quite sorry about that." He shrugged with what might be considered a rather detached apologetic gesture.

"But you still want us to find this for you?"

"I do. And for the sake of you own existence you will want to find it as well." Envoy turned toward the blank wall behind him and made a dramatic opening gesture with his arms. "I only know that you can find it here." With a soft hissing noise a dark hole irised open in the rock face before them, revealing a new tunnel. "You must stay on your path and follow your guide. Here your future--and survival as a species--depends on your success. All of our futures depend on you."

"Do we have to go right now?" Xander sighed. He was not looking forward to any more tromping around in tunnels. "Can we take a lunch break?" Some of the slayers also nodded.

Though Envoy was tolerantly amused, his tone was grave and stern. "Our time grows short, I fear. We must move with haste. We are not the only party interested in the Pevasor Adnihilo. So please do be good sports and be on your way. I will find you when you are done."

Xander quickly and efficiently reformed their ranks, with Zelinda and Carole in the van, followed by Angel, Giles and Cordelia. Faith decided to take up the rear with Tarian and Fulani and immediately began a raucous dialog with the Welsh woman. Fulani alternated between confusion and extreme embarrassment as things were explained to her.

Before they began Giles turned to ask one more thing of Envoy. "Where did he go?"

No one had seem anything, but Envoy had disappeared as quickly and quietly as he had first appeared.

Faith scowled. "I hate when they do that."

"I guess his job here was done," said Xander sardonically.

"Now what?" asked Tarian, irritated. She was still unhappy about the vampire in their midst and Envoy's casual appearance and then disappearance was starting to get on her last nerve. At this point she would have much preferred to be doing something much more slayer-like, like shoving a splinter of wood into an undead person's heart.

Xander looked her square in the eye as he told her, "Now we finish ours." He moved up with Zelinda and led the way into the opening created by Envoy.

The new tunnel started off very much like the ones they has been in before, though perhaps a bit wider, perhaps a bit smoother. With no further information from Envoy about what to do Xander and Giles agreed they would continue looking for the golden markers. They conferred for a few seconds longer before Giles dropped back to be with Tarian and Fulani.

After a bit more shifting about Angel ended up a pace back from Xander, while Faith was now beside Cordelia. Tarian and Fulani began walking backwards in alternate turns. There was no way they were going to allow any more surprises from the rear.

Xander only half listened in on the chatter and speculation going on all around about what Envoy was really talking about and whether they could trust him. Most of his attention soon become focused on Angel when he realized how close the vampire was.

Xander noted Angel seemed preoccupied, more drawn into himself than he ever remembered. If he didn't know better he might even say Angel looked beat down. He couldn't really tell, but it wouldn't have surprised him much given the shocks of the last couple of hours: finding Cordelia alive, realizing he'd been duped, learning he was the candidate to save mankind.

No, on second thought, Xander decided he wasn't going to be overly concerned with Angel. Let the vampire stew in his own problems and guilt. It's what he did best.

Perhaps due to tiredness or whatever mild concern over Angel's presence he did have, Xander wasn't paying attention as the light around him changed from the uneven bobbing shadows and flashes of their headlamps to a formless gray glow. When he finally did notice he looked up, surprised to see no tunnel and more surprised to see he was now alone.

The last surprise occurred as Xander suddenly found nothing resisting his next footfall. He flailed as he tipped over, making an attempt to protect his bad ankle, and grasped only air. Almost immediately he landed on his side with an explosive oomph, winding himself. Before he could think or do anything else he began tumbling down a very steep, dry and rocky slope, rapidly gaining speed, going literally head over heels.

It seemed to go forever and no matter how hard he tried he was unable to stop his flailing tumble. Xander was getting panicky with his inability to do anything about it. He was also getting dizzy, hampering his efforts to recognize what he was seeing as images of his new surroundings whizzed through his line of view.

One thing he did notice during split-second moments was an ominous darkness in the gray ahead, a darkness cut off sharply by the edge of lighter gray he seemed to be rolling on. He came to the conclusion it was probably some kind of horizon and that it was approaching very fast. Assuming, with his luck so far, it would be the edge of a cliff Xander decided falling over it would be even more unpleasant than what he was doing right now. In desperation he stopped trying to grab onto anything and just spread himself out as flat as possible to at least to slow himself down.

His tactic worked and he finally skidded to a painful, scraping stop. He was seized by a fit of coughing due to all the dust he had kicked up and was left hanging around him. He also noticed one of his legs was dangling over the edge. Before he could even breath a sigh of relief the ground crumbled under him and he fell straight down with a shout. The shout was immediately amplified as his already injured leg impacted on a series of unseen crumbling rocky shelves under the edge. He kept sliding and falling and shouting until he finally achieved a new precarious balance on a lower, narrow rocky shelf. This time things seemed to hold and Xander, believing himself to be stable for the moment, stopped shouting and tried to slow the rapid beating of his heart.

Moving only his head, Xander looked around to take stock of his situation. His original impressions of grayness were confirmed. Everything he could see, from the rock in front of his eyes, to the sky above him, and everything in between, was some shade of gray. He continued assessing things for a few more minutes as he gathered his strength, but soon tired of cataloging all the various shades of gray-on-gray.

Xander felt a little stronger after a few minutes of respite and he slowly tried to work his way further up onto the ledge to a more secure position. He immediately ceased his efforts when the crumbly rock began to break away underneath and he slid further down.

It seemed each and every time he tried to advance and gain a few inches he would fall back even further. Xander tilted his head up and he could see the lip he originally fell over just above him by several scant yards. He'd never seen anything so far away before and he nearly cried with the frustration. Of all the stupid ways to die, he thought.

His heart and breathing pounding away again, but at least not sliding anymore, Xander let his head drop against the itchy, dusty surface. He decided to stop for awhile and work on a brand new plan he would grandly call Plan B.

Without moving too much, he craned his head back and began to shout, implementing his new Plan B, calling for Giles, the slayers, Cordelia, Faith, anyone. He realized it wasn't much for backup plans, but it was at least worth trying. After five minutes of hanging on and shouting he quieted down and listened. He heard nothing but the hot gusty breeze and his own breathing. He repeated the performance with the same result.

If there was anybody to hear him they would have by now, he figured, and he also guessed they were probably in similar or worse shape than himself. Onto the next plan, he decided, which was a repeat of plan A.

Just as he was about to slowly lever his knee up he heard a rustling from above and stopped. He looked up to see a black masculine profile against the dark sky.

"Need some help?" Angel asked.

Xander closed his eye and groaned. Plan A emphatically did _not_ include Angel! But, now too frustrated, weary and banged up to argue with gift horses that trotted his way, Xander shrugged as best he could from his suspended condition. "Well, no, I kind of like it here. Y'know, the view is so much better from this angle. Why don't you come and join me?"

To Xander's immense surprise Angel did just that, landing deftly below him on a narrow lip Xander hadn't seen. Quickly, Angel shifted to brace himself, grabbed Xander by the belt, and in a single fluid motion literally threw him back up onto the slope, landing with a graceless plop, kicking up more clouds of dust. Angel soon followed with an effortless leap of his own.

Brushing himself off with quick strokes, Xander mumbled a half-hearted thanks. Angel saving his ass was definitely a pattern he couldn't get out of too soon. Xander was mildly surprised after he had finished knocking off most of the dust and looked about. "Where is everyone?"

Angel made a long show of looking about as well before answering. "I don't know. After we went through that...portal or... whatever, I ended up on this same slope," Angel waved back behind himself, "but further over. When I looked around there was nobody. The others have just disappeared."

"Or we disappeared."

Angel conceded the point with a shrug. He sniffed the air. "There's been no scent or sign of them. I was about to start heading down when I heard some screaming. I thought it might have been one of the girls, but it turned out to be just you."

Xander's jaw tightened. "Only too glad to disappoint," he mumbled softly, certain Angel would hear him anyway. "Great, we've probably all been split up," Xander spoke up more loudly, looking over his shoulder at Angel. "Well, Mr. Champion, from what I've heard you've got frequent-flier miles on Air Portals. Any suggestions?"

Angel smirked. "As you not so casually reminded me so not very long ago, you're the boss around here."

"And as the boss I'm asking if you have any ideas."

Xander and Angel's gazes locked momentarily.

Angel shrugged mentally. "I was heading downslope," he finally said. He pointed back the way he had come, in a direction that paralleled the edge of the cliff and appeared to gradually descend. "If the others are anywhere then they'll most likely head down as well. It's easier, more likely to find water or anything useful. If there's anything resembling civilization or help then that's also more likely to be down than up."

Xander looked in the direction Angel had pointed. He slowly pivoted around to get his first full view of the entire landscape they were now in. His first impression of 'gray' still stuck. The extremely rugged landscape seemed to consist of nothing but gray, dusty and barren canyons and mesas in an extremely ugly and harsher version of the American southwest. Wherever there weren't colorless boulders strewn about, the ground seemed to be covered in either dust or a loose pebbly scree. There was no sign of life anywhere, a total wasteland.

Looking up, the sky was virtually a mirror image of the ground, only somewhat softer and lighter. Xander was not not even certain if it were actual clouds he was looking at, like a deeply overcast sky, or merely the color of the air here. He suspected the later. No matter where he looked he couldn't identify a source of light, it was just an uneven, colorless glow from horizon to horizon. It was most definitely depressing. He heaved a great sigh and the air tasted of ash. Xander impatiently shook himself off and nodded sharply. "OK, sounds reasonable," he declared and started off. Just as he suspected, the loose ground gave him troubles. Angel glided easily over the broken ground, giving no assistance to Xander, who limped along, occasionally stumbling, but made no complaint.

---

"What is their progress?"

The voice was a deep rasping of giant boulders grinding together, a voice completely at odds with the owner's physical stature. Further exacerbating the difference, the small human who spoke stood next to the enormous figure of a Kralz demon. Anybody spying on the pair would invariably and incorrectly assume who was master and who was subservient.

The Kralz, warping its fierce visage, answered humbly. "They've been split up, just as--"

"Show me!"

The demon bowed his lump of head and moved over to the polished surface of the stone sitting in the center of the room they occupied. Though the surface was polished it appeared no different than any other polished rock, yet--under the proper conditions--contained a powerful glamour. The demon reached into a pouch tied to his side and withdrew his closed fist. He threw some brownish-green powder into the air over the stone and mumbled incantations in a language so old as to never have been heard by humans. He continued his mumbling recitation as he waved a fetish, a small skull of unknown origin, in his other claw over the surface.

Suddenly the surface shimmered as if it was melting, becoming wavy, then glowing green, glaring bright enough to cause both human and demon to shield their eyes and look away. Shortly the green glare died down to reveal that the surface had become a clear, perfectly transparent window onto a scene of two figures walking through a dusty plain.

"Who is the one still with him?" The human with the rumbly voice was clearly not pleased.

"A human." The demon snorted, dribbling mucus down its chest area. "A crippled one at that." The Kralz turned. "Should we take him now?"

The human ignored the question. "The others?"

"They've all been scattered far away, just as we wanted. They can't possibly aid these two for the time being. But I warn that eventually they will find each other." The demon, now back beside the human, glanced down at his companion. "We should take him now," he reiterated.

The human shook his head. "No, not yet. Let them tire. I'll signal you when. Then attack. Do whatever you have to do to get him," He turned to leave but stopped as he passed by his larger companion and looked up at the ugly folds that passed for a face. Without raising his voice, but with a tone finely altered to one of infinite threat, a tone used by those who truly had the power to destroy, he cautioned the Kralz. "But do not harm him. Do not fail me again, or this will be the last day of your existence."

The Kralz dipped his body in submission. "It will be as you say," he murmured to the human's retreating back. His eyes flicked back to the shimmering image. "And the boy?" he asked more loudly.

The human, already at the exit, didn't even turn back. He merely flicked his hand dismissively. "Kill him or not, it does not matter. Just get me the vampire."

Again the Kralz bowed deeply to his overlord and continued to study the stumbling figures before him.

---

Faith and Cordelia landed together with no more than a stumble for either, each instinctively grabbing the other to keep from falling. After they regained their balance they looked around at the sudden change in location, from the claustrophobic rocky gray walls to the same wide-open gray landscape encountered by Xander and Angel. Another silent moment passed before they realized all the others were missing as well.

Faith sniffed. "Well, this sucks," she commented casually.

Cordelia, determined Faith would never see her unhinged, waved dismissively. "Been there, done that, got the goo all over my shirt." She turned around to get another good look at her surroundings. "Although this isn't quite as pretty as the last time. At least it doesn't look like there are any demon dogs around."

Faith looked at Cordelia curiously but got no explanation.

Neither the slayer nor the seer were prone to panic, nor were either made very anxious by this latest twist. They had both been through too much to be frightened by a little trip through a portal into another dimension. They agreed staying on the high peak of the slope did them little good and, arriving at the same conclusion as Angel and Xander, began their own downhill journey.

"So it's just us two hot chicks, on a journey through the desert to fi--"

"Do not even think to make a Thelma and Louise reference!" snapped Cordelia, "or I _will_ find a way to make you regret it. There will be no cliff-diving in this scenario."

Faith laughed and raised her hands. "Chill, your highness, I was just going to say it looks like us girls are going to have to save the boys. Again."

Cordelia nodded and smiled thinly.

---

Giles looked up when he noticed the change in the quality of light around him. Instead of the polished rock passing inches above his head, painted with the sharp jumping shadows cast by their headlamps, there was now an infinite dome of gray sky, glowing of its own accord without any sun. The sky and ground blended together into a terrible colorless morass.

At once Giles and the slayers discovered four of their team were missing. Giles and Zelinda quickly organized a search through the rocky and blasted landscape, everyone taking a different pie-shaped sector from their immediate location, calling out for their friends as they went. Giles was not overly surprised when they had no luck locating the rest of their party.

"Puts rather a damper on things, don't you think?" he asked of no one in general, taking off his glasses to clean them once more. Zelinda nodded solemnly, while Tarian just seemed annoyed. The junior slayers, Carole and Fulani, were somewhat jumpy and nervous from the turn of events, but the calming presence of Giles and Zelinda helped greatly.

"Well, I believe we have a number of options open to us at this point," Giles announced while peering through the lenses to verify he hadn't actually made them dirtier. "We can continue looking for our friends, or we can resume our original task and locate this Pevasor Adnihilo, this Demon Killer, or whatever it is. Or we can wait here for them to find us." The last option Giles spoke with a tone of clear distaste for he had no desire to passively sit and wait around. He looked toward Tarian since he knew she would be the most vocal and would also most likely choose the same thing he would have.

Tarian didn't disappoint. "We have no idea if Xander and his girlfriend, or Faith or the vampire, are even alive. Or if they are, if they're anywhere in this...dimension, or world, or whatever hell this is." She looked up and shuddered a bit. They had only been here an hour or so and it was already beginning to get to her. "I say assume we're in the right place to find your artifact. We'll either run into the others or not." When Giles looked to the others, they were nodding their heads. He knew slayers would almost never chose the passive option.

Giles nodded his own agreement and they headed out.

---

Xander limped on steadily, slightly ahead of Angel, favoring his bad ankle. Their initial exchange having petered out, they naturally settled into an abrasive, almost irritating silence that neither seemed inclined to break.

Except for the occasional gusts of wind as they swirled around and through the peaks and the larger boulders there was virtually no sound but their own footfalls. Every quarter-hour Xander stopped to take a quick drink of water and give his ankle a break, ignoring Angel's amused condescending looks. Occasionally they both bellowed out the names of their companions, hoping to get an answer. None were forthcoming.

Despite his relatively risk-free time in England, Xander hadn't forgotten the lessons learned in Sunnydale, savannah and jungle. Like Angel, he wordlessly kept a sharp eye on the passing surroundings, constantly cataloging areas that might pose a threat, or hide enemies, or be good for an ambush.

On their right the ground formed a rough and rocky slope up to a high ridge slashing against the gray sky with razor-tooth peaks. In fact it was rocky everywhere. The canyon Xander had nearly fallen into was on their left, but now Xander could better see the dry bottom as they descended. Far, far ahead of them could be seen where the ridges on their left and right converged onto a tight V-shaped notch of a valley, out into the unknown beyond. Xander suspected it would be just more of the same, but getting through that narrow opening could prove hazardous. One thing at a time, he cautioned himself.

Most of the mental work of keeping aware of his surroundings was ingrained and automatic; Xander didn't have to put too much conscious effort into it and he could let his mind wander a bit. Inevitably it wandered onto the subject of his traveling companion.

He and Angel would never get along, Xander knew that, and this current enforced march through a dusty gray hell wasn't doing anything to change his mind. Why couldn't he have been stuck with one of the others? Even Tarian, with her prickly personality and almost indecipherable accent, would be a far, far preferable companion than Angel.

Xander smiled suddenly, thinking it could almost be pleasant if it were Cordelia he were alone with, even in this gray hellhole. A little fantasy with him, Cordy and a deserted tropical island quickly played through his mind.

Then he frowned. He was worried. He was worried about where she might be right now, if she were in danger or hurt. Xander knew full well, and it had been ably demonstrated, Cordelia could take care of herself as well as any non-slayer he had ever known. Yet still he felt almost sick at the thought she could be hurt at this very moment. It must be that damn White Knight syndrome of mine getting all uppity again, he thought. He chuckled ruefully as the irony was not lost on him he had been one to hurt her the most, both emotionally and physically. Yeah, where were you then, White Knight? he thought, unhappy with himself.

At another level he continued to be anxious about where they were together. It seemed she had forgiven him, in action if not specific words. They had agreed they were to be friends, good friends even. And that meant exactly...what, now? That they would write? That they would call? Maybe even visit now and again? That they might talk about nothing more deep than the weather? Was that the pattern now set permanently?

Granted, Xander was ecstatic for even that much with her. But was that enough? Could it possibly be enough? If that fantasy meant anything about what was really going on in his head, then he realized, deep down, he had an almost burning desire, an unfounded one perhaps, for more.

There was still something about Cordelia he had found in few others, something that attracted him powerfully. Anya had had it. And despite everything he admired and adored about Buffy, he realized she didn't. Nor did Willow, he understood with a certain wistfulness. It was an undaunted spirit, a fiery quality for living life on her terms, a hot-tempered feistiness, an honesty and directness that had entranced him then, and still did. Even their last contentious battle over his declaration of leadership didn't change that. If anything it only made her more desirable.

With this new understanding of his desire for her, Xander cautioned that he must curb himself for fear of losing what he had regained. He could not, would not, chance it. He would be the best friend he could be, fulfilling all the promises he had made to her, that he would always be someone she could trust from now on. He would gladly accept whatever level of intimacy she wanted with him, and count himself lucky. Even if all that meant was talking about whether or not is was sunny outside today.

The rare sound of Angel stumbling over a loose rock brought him out of his thoughts and Xander frowned deeply. Angel. Wherever there was Cordelia, Angel--in thought or reality--would not be far away. He was one of the mysteries about her. What had she seen in him that had brought them so close? Bah! He didn't understand it. He didn't want to. But he knew he would eventually have to figure something out, because if he now truly trusted her as much as he said he did, then he had to trust in her judgment of the vampire.

As far as Angel was concerned though, the only bright spot in this entire ordeal was it seemed Xander had finally learned the virtues of silence. The boy had always been far too chatty for his taste, a never-ending torrent of verbal diarrhea, weak insults, and dumber jokes, with barely anything worthwhile to contribute.

He couldn't understand how the Cordelia he had grown to know, who had become far, far more than a pretty, self-absorbed cheerleader with a razor-sharp wit, the woman he had fallen for, how that person had ever had anything to do with Xander. Even allowing for youthful ignorance how could Cordelia ever have given this boy even two seconds of her time, much less an entire year? It was killing Angel to see how they got on now, how easily she interacted with him, much as she once had with himself in the best days of their own relationship in Los Angeles.

"You're not good enough for her."

Xander blinked at Angel's first words spoken to him since they had begun their trek. For a moment, for their own reasons, both noted how ironic it was for Angel to be the first to speak.

"Good enough? For who?" Xander had a pretty good idea who Angel was referring to, but he wanted Angel to say it.

"Cordelia. You're not good enough for Cordelia," Angel obliged with threatening overtones.

Xander's brow furrowed. "I'm not?" he responded in a light mocking tone. Hell, Xander thought, if Angel was jealous of him, this was something he could really get used to, even if there was little merit to it.

"You're just going to hurt her all over again. I won't allow that."

"I will? You won't?"

Angel growled low in his throat, rumbling his threat.

Xander glanced over at Angel, then looked forward again to keep an eye on their path. "Y'know, Spike and I didn't ever agree on much, or, well, just about anything at all. But there was one thing we could always drink to: that you're an idiot. A real bleedin' pillock, I think was how he put it. Or potato-head. Whatever. We were really drunk. For your information, there is no Cordelia and me."

The vampire snorted. "I'm not blind. I see the way she's been looking at you."

Xander came to an abrupt halt, turning to face Angel directly. "Let's get something straight right now. She's not looking at me in any way. We're friends, Angel. That's it." Xander dropped his head and stared at his boots, voice lowering as he continued. "And after everything that's happened between us, after everything that's happened to her, finding her alive again, it's...it's more than I could ever have dreamed for, more than I deserve." Xander looked up at Angel with a steady gaze. "And for your information, I_really_ do know that."

"We're just friends," Xander repeated. He shook his head in rueful surprise. Surprise at how good he felt about that. He and Cordelia were friends. And that felt mighty damn great! Hey, it's sunny here today, how about you?

Angel huffed but didn't add anything further as they resumed their silent parade.

---

The woman answered the phone on the fourth ring.

"Buon pomeriggio, sono Buffy."

"Well ain't that just the most darling accent, my precious. You must make all the Italian stallions just flop out of their Gucci's when you pass by."

Buffy Summers didn't recognize the caller and frowned, but was more than happy to switch to English. Even after all the time she had spent in Italy she still had no facility with the language. It sometimes made her envious of Dawn, especially when they would hit the clubs and Dawn would just launch into some rapid-fire casual conversation with anyone--and everyone--they met, while Buffy had to hope the guy knew English. Fortunately there usually were plenty of those who did.

"Who's calling?" she asked.

"I'm a friend of a friend, cupcake." A longish pause was followed by a wistful admission. "Well, we used to be friends. But that's water under the bridge. You--"

"Which friend?" interrupted Buffy impatiently. She didn't have time for antics like this and was ready to hang up the phone.

"Oh, stands about yea high, has shoulders about yea wide, pouty good looks, a forehead all the ad agencies in town are desperate to rent out, a tendency to sulk in dark cor--"

"Angel!"

"And a pumpkin pie for the little lady!" crowed Lorne.

"Pie? I thought it was supposed to be a cigar."

"Uech! I hate cigars! They stink and cause cancer, why would I want to give you one of those? Now pumpkin pie, on the other hand, is one of the true pleasures of this dimension! Bu-u-ut, if you really still want that cigar...?"

Buffy laughed at the joyful insanity of her caller, whoever it might be. "You're right, I'll take the pie. And who is sending me this pie?"

"Call me Lorne. Everyone's doing it these days."

"Why's that?"

"Because, cinnamon bun, it's my name."

"Makes a sense that, uh, makes sense." This was definitely one of the weirder and more fun phone calls Buffy had ever had. But now it was time to get down to the point. "You said you know Angel. Is that what this is about?"

"That. And a lot more. Your presence is required. There's a group you just gotta meet in England."

"You mean the Council? I'm already scheduled to see them next week."

"No, no, no. Please, write this down."

Buffy didn't know why, but she felt inclined to trust this Lorne. "Hold it a sec." She scrabbled in the drawer for a pencil and paper. "OK," she prompted when she was ready.

Lorne proceeded to give her a set of directions, starting in London, and to the best of Buffy's limited knowledge of English roadways, lead somewhere west, rather than north towards the Council House. She frowned deeply when Lorne finished. The directions were precise, but there was no destination address, just a final turn off the roadway.

"Where is this?" she demanded.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"And I should just trust you?"

"My dearest little strudel, you have been most kind and generous to even listen to a wee strange soul such as mine. I ask it as a favor of Angel, your friends, and well heck, let's just throw in the whole human race, huh?"

"I'm required?"

The voice lost all its garrulous humor. "Yes, sweetikins, you really are. Now pack your bags and get goin' honeybunch!"

The connection clicked dead and Buffy stared at the phone for a moment as thoughts tumbled through her head. She finally snapped the phone back in place and went upstairs to pack.

---

Xander fumed, but it was not about anything to do with Angel's statements regarding him and Cordelia. He couldn't get a certain thought out of his mind. At the moment the thing he was having trouble with, the thing he couldn't get beyond, was the fact Angel seemed to have been tapped to get the big reward. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop thinking about it. After all the crap he'd done, either as Angel, and most especially as Angelus, how does he get to be the one to get the brass ring? Xander glared at the vampire.

"Y'know," Xander puffed out between breaths, "I'm almost really glad you're going to be human."

Angel had no problems speaking since he could not be winded by his exertions. "Really? Why would that be, Xander?"

"Because we'll finally be able to settle it once and for all between us, all fairish and squarish. If you're going to be just as human as me, I figure I'll have decent odds of being able to pound you into the ground. That's going to be as sweet as my mom's--err, my uncle's--apple pie."

Angel snorted derisively. "You got a lot of things to learn, Xander. Grow up!"

Xander turned to face Angel. "See, that's the difference between us. I'm only in my twenties; I figure there's a big world out there I still haven't seen, and I still got a lot of growing up to do. So what the hell's your excuse, bicentennial man?" Xander pointed sharply at Angel, nearly poking him in the chest. "Someday I _will_ grow up. But you? You're always going to be this way. Just a sulking waste of space." Xander smirked when he saw his jab have a stinging effect on Angel.

Disgusted, and not wanting to waste any more time with him, Angel waved him off. "Some people just never change."

---

Faith and Cordelia also walked along silently. The two had never had much to do with each other during the brief period they were both in Sunnydale, and events in Los Angeles had only sealed the enmity between them. However, it would be more accurate to say that by now Faith was indifferent toward Cordelia, while Cordelia simply despised the slayer on the rare occasions she did think of her. And now, though possibly an unconscious motivation, Cordelia may have had another reason for disliking her traveling companion

"You seemed pretty friendly with Xander."

"I guess cause we're friends, ya?"

Faith's small smirk irritated the hell out of Cordelia, causing her to hesitate before asking her next question.

"Are you two..."

Faith wasn't above taking the princess down a notch or two, nor from getting a rise out of her just for shits and grins. "Fuck buddies?"

Cordelia grimaced. "Trust a skank. I should have known you can't take the slut out of the slayer."

Faith laughed at Cordelia's expression and couldn't resist needling the taller girl even more. "Would you _really_ like to know?"

Despite her better judgment, Cordelia was curious, but she didn't want to give Faith an edge over her. It wasn't as if she really cared if Xander and her were... But...

"It's just, y'know, interesting."

"Yeah? How so?"

"The last time you two were in the same room you almost succeeded in killing him. Now you're best pals? It's just interesting how that works out. The Xander I remember could hold a grudge like nobody's business." Cordelia only had to recall his attitude, past and present, towards Angel. "I never would've given him that much credit for being the forgiving kind."

Faith stopped in her tracks. She accepted her past and tried to learn from it, to use it as motivation for improving her future, so being reminded of it didn't usually bother her. But something about the way Cordelia spoke to her, like she was still just gutter trash, really got under her skin. Faith took a deep breaths to calm herself.

Cordelia had taken a couple of more steps before realizing she'd left Faith behind her. By the time she turned around, Faith's expression was serene again.

"A lot of stuff went down while you were out of it, princess. I like to think I've changed. For the better. People I respect believe it too. So I don't really care if you do or not. The pirate and I are friends. And I mean exactly that. No "bennies" or anything, except the trust and care of a good friend. He's helped me out a time or two, and I've helped him as well. But there's no 'us'." It was one of the longest speeches Faith had ever delivered on the subject and she was nearly breathless.

"No?" Cordelia asked skeptically with arched eyebrow. She crossed her arms across her chest, looking far from convinced. This was Faith after all.

"No. In fact," Faith held up her left hand to show off her ring. "I'm getting hitched." She smirked triumphantly upon seeing Cordelia's wide-eyed expression. Faith turned on her booted heel and resumed her pace. "Don't bother asking," she threw over her shoulder, "it's no one you know. But I'll remember to include you on the guest list. And I'll expect something real nice from you."

Cordelia's jaw dropped. The thought of the wild slayer, psycho-killer extraordinaire, ex-con, the paragon of use-em-and-lose-em, getting married just didn't compute. She shook her head at an image of Faith, dressed in white, with a long flowing train, with bridesmaids in tow, in a grand cathedral wedding.

No. That was an image that would not form.

Cordelia hurried to catch up. When she did...

Faith, seeing Cordelia's still stunned expression laughed again before giving Cordelia an appraising expression. "People can change, princess, people _can_ change."

---

Xander cocked his head. He thought he heard an odd sound on top of the low keening of the constant gusts coming up from the canyon below. It came and went irregularly and he wasn't even sure it was real. But if pressed he could swear it sounded like... music? When the wind died down for a moment it turned it out it was actually off-key humming from behind him. And very near.

Surprised, he turned around to see Angel, several steps back, eyes down and focused on the ground, unaware of Xander's notice. After a few seconds, as Angel caught up to him, Xander's surprise turned to incredulous shock. "Is that?-- Is that _Manilow_ you're humming?"

Angel, so buried in his own thoughts he hadn't been aware Xander had stopped, stumbled slightly in a half-hearted attempt to avoid crashing into Xander.

Xander was even more surprised by Angel's embarrassed stuttering response. "What? What? Uh, no!" Angel refused to look at Xander while stammering his answer. "I'm just, just humming...nothing, really," he finished lamely.

Xander was having none of it, a huge shit-eating grin forming on his face. He pointed an accusing finger, giggling as well. "Yes! Yes it was! That was Copa Cabana, wasn't it?!"

"No, it was--" Angel tried for righteous, indignant anger but failed utterly as Xander started doing a spastic little jig around him.

"Oh, yes it was!" crowed Xander, dancing in what he probably thought was some sort of Latin step and singing in a falsetto, finally breaking into full out laughter. "You're humming Manilow!" Xander burst into another fit of laughter when Angel's expression went from indignant embarrassment to outright irritation. "Oh. My. God, I thought things were bad before," he gasped, "but now it looks like things are only getting started!" Xander had to stop when another fit of laughter doubled him over when he saw how genuinely angry Angel had become.

"Are you done?" demanded Angel, giving Xander a shove. With his weakened ankle and being unprepared, Xander toppled over easily, kicking up a cloud of dust. But Xander just looked up at Angel's scowling face and threatening posture and busted out into yet another round of laughter, causing Angel to deflate.

After several more minutes Xander finally calmed down and climbed back to his feet without saying anything to Angel. Wearing a self-satisfied grin, he shifted his pack on his shoulder and continued on without a word to Angel.

He glanced over as Angel quickly caught up to him but stayed silent, for which Angel was ever grateful. After awhile Xander, with a sober expression, again looked at Angel. "Does Cordy know?"

Angel winced and looked away. "Yeah."

"And she still stayed friends with you? Wow, I'm...impressed. That--" Xander sighed wistfully. "She must have really been something all those years. You, and Wesley, and everything else. I wished I'd called. Or even visited."

"She was, Xander, she really was." Then, in surprising friendly candor, Angel continued, "And you should have, she would have liked that."

"Y'think so?" Xander asked with a dubious expression.

"I do."

Xander chewed on his lip as he pondered that for awhile, curious by Angel's friendliness. "Y'know what really bites my Twinkie?"

"What?"

"You guys hardly knew her but you really got the best. I grew up with her, from kindergarten through high-school graduation. I knew her practically her whole life. And it wasn't until that last year or two, even when she was tearing me a new one, I realized how wonderful she could be when she wanted to. It wasn't often, but even still." Xander shook his head regretfully. "You got the best. I didn't. And it's all my fault. That's one reason--among a pile of other good ones--why I hate you so much."

---

"How much has Xan told you about Sunnydale?"

Cordelia shrugged in a non-committal way. "I know it's not there anymore. As much as I hated that flea-bite excuse of a landfill, I'm still kind of sad about that. To defeat the--First?" Cordelia looked at Faith, who nodded, "--You, Buffy and the... potentials? had Willow do a girl-power spell and turned everyone into slayers. I guess that's what's keeping Xander busy. Running around the world looking for super-chicks."

"Keeping all of us busy, honey," Faith gently corrected. "We barely have a handle on it. He tell you about the eye?"

"Not really. He said it was 'another day at the office'."

"Figures," Faith snorted, but she didn't elaborate.

"So what about the eye?"

Faith pursed her lips and seemed to consider for a moment before she shook her head decisively. "Nah, not my story to tell. Just take my advice and keep your hands away from his face; he gets real skittish about that."

---

Xander wearily stopped next to a sand-polished boulder, one of hundreds in the field they were currently traversing. It was wide open and the rocks, though large, were too small to provide much cover to any real threat, so Xander felt it was as safe a time as any to catch his breath and drink some water.

"You need another break?"

Xander was leaning across his body to tenderly prod his ankle and re-adjust the boot laces. He didn't look up as he spoke. "Being human has its downsides, pal. Maybe you'll get to fi--what?"

Angel had suddenly crouched into a combat stance and was looking about intently. "Did you hear that?" he demanded, waving for Xander to be quiet.

Instinctively, either in reaction to Angel or to whatever Angel was sensing--he didn't know which--Xander also flowed in to a ready stance, pains and bruises instantly ignored. He slid behind Angel so they were back-to-back. "No, I didn't hear a thi--there!" Xander pointed off to the right toward some movement he'd caught out of the corner of his eye.

The whole rock-strewn field they were in erupted. At least twenty or thirty of the "boulders" turned out to be the prostate forms of turtle-like, swift-moving Brotzalk demons. Once raised up from under their shells they had mottled red and green hide, with two legs and four arms, although the lower set of arms could also serve as legs, allowing them to lope along extremely quickly.

"Friends of yours?" Xander inquired over his shoulder as he brought up his shotgun.

"Not in the least. You got anything I can use?" asked Angel.

Xander looked Angel in the eye and their gazes locked for a split second. Xander curtly nodded. He reached back, pulled out a short-sword and handed it over. Angel seemed disappointed. Xander smiled. "It's how you use it that matters."

"So I've heard," Angel replied dryly, briefly swishing the blade to get a feel for its heft and balance. He seemed satisfied with it.

The exchange took only moments but the oncoming mass of demon had halved the distance and seemed to be moving even faster. Angel and Xander braced themselves for the onslaught. At the last moment Angel charged into the front rank, sword swinging, surprising the demons and earning himself at least two kills right off.

Xander, half-expecting this from Angel, turned and arrowed in right behind, blasting a demon that was lunging for Angel's neck. Now that they had gotten the mass of demons to one side they quickly re-established their defensive posture side-by-side. Xander continued pumping shells until he ran out and then started swinging the gun like a club. Behind him he could hear Angel grunting with effort, and the occasional thuds as he absorbed a blow. Xander took a split second to look up and survey their situation and saw they were surrounded again, though the pair had cut down the enemy numbers by an impressive amount.

Once more Angel charged, and at that moment Xander's world went dark.

---

"Enough about me and Xander, what about you? You guys were looking pretty cozy there. Cleveland's kind of a dull town. Something going on I can gossip about?"

Cordelia gave Faith a calculating look. "Just like you, we're friends, I think."

"Just friends, huh? And you wouldn't be interested in more?" Faith gave Cordelia a nudge with her elbow.

It wasn't like the idea hadn't occurred to Cordelia at least once, or maybe even twice, over the last week or so. And their little epiphany during the trip over had put her in a place where she could even contemplate it without berating herself for being an idiot. But...

"I don't know. When we were together, back in high-school, I believed in him, I really did. And you know where that got me. It's a matter of..."

"Trust?"

Cordelia nodded. "I don't know if I could ever really trust him again. Not fully. I couldn't go through something like that again. I _won't_ go through something like that again."

"I get that," agreed Faith, with a judicious nod of her own. "Trust's a hard thing to come by." If Cordelia was surprised by the philosophical way Faith spoke she hid it well. "Harder to earn than respect, easier to lose, and ten times more important. But here's the thing. People, even good people--and Xander is that--make mistakes, bad ones even. But that don't mean they ain't good people. Or that you can never trust them again. A pretty smart guy we both know once told me that. It's too bad, but at the time he said it I wasn't ready to listen. Took a long while, and a lot of people I hurt along the way, before I got there."

"_Xander_ said that?"

"Our boy Angel, actually. Listen here, princess, I'm not going to tell you what to do with your life, Lord knows I'm not Angel, and I'm certainly no paragon of anything but killin' vamps. But if you do feel something for Xander, I mean really feel something, then I don't think you should close the door on the idea just 'cause of what happened when we were all too stupid to know better. That boy is not the same person you knew back in high school."

This time it was Cordelia's turn to nod thoughtfully. Maybe. Just maybe, she thought. She'd have to play it by ear and see how things turned out.

---

Xander groaned, coughed and rolled over. He finally opened his eye and woke fully, his head feeling much worse for wear, tear and bashing. Groaning all the way he nearly lost his balance just sitting up. If he wasn't careful he'd also lose what little lunch he'd had previously. For awhile he just held his head in his hands and concentrated on breathing evenly and not passing out again. When he felt he was ready, and with another orchestra of groans, he slowly clambered to his feet.

Breathing heavily from the effort he then took a moment to assess his situation. The fresh set of pains joining the others he'd garnered so far was no surprise. "After this I'm taking a real vacation, with beaches and hot tubs and massages and nothing for me to do but sit in the sun, drink beer, get fat, and enjoy every minute of it." He was only a little surprised Angel was nowhere in sight. He acknowledged this would usually have been a cause for some celebration, but this time he was willing to take a rain-check until he know where Angel actually went.

"Angel?!" he called out.

Xander looked around after he got no response. There were plenty of signs of their fight: some dead demon carcasses, dropped weapons, furrows and divots in the ground, but no sign of Angel. He repeated his call, but much louder, keeping it up for a few minutes.

"Damn," he muttered. There was no nothing, no mark in the dust, no torn bit of clothing or anything that might give him a clue as to what happened to Angel. He had just vanished. Xander sat back down and massaged a sore shoulder and pondered his next action. It didn't take long before he concluded that staying the course and following their first objective was his only real choice. And if that didn't work out he'd think of something else.

Xander took one more look around again, unsurprised when there was still nothing to see. As much as he disliked Angel, without him Xander knew this mission might all be for nothing. "Damn!" he swore again. He got up and stomped away, muttering about getting too old for this shit.

---

Either by good planning, good fortune, or the possible intervention of some higher power, all the separate parties found each other after another hour or two of arduous hiking. From different directions they met at the beginning of a low valley, nestled between spiky pinnacles of rock that towered over them yet cast no shadows.

This time the reunion was more somber due to their extreme tiredness and the dire situation. Xander, sitting down on a rock, soon got very annoyed with the constant barrage of questions about Angel's whereabouts.

"For the hundredth time, I don't know what happened to him," he answered again. "I told you. We got jumped. There had to have been over a dozen of them at least. For awhile we were back to back but then he jumped out and got separated. That's when I got clonked and it was lights out for me. By the time I came around there was no one or anything in sight. No clue which way they may have taken him."

"Taken him?" demanded Cordelia.

"Yeah." Xander shook his head, trying to remember all that he could of the confused fight. "I can't really explain it, but I got the feeling they were more interested in taking than killing. Just a grab and go."

"But not you?" asked Faith, looking a bit angry and suspicious but not sure how to vent it. "Did you even try and stop them?"

Xander's face went stony and he just looked at Faith for the longest time, with a glare that finally made her drop her stare. "I do not like Angel," answered Xander, "It is fair to say I will _never_ like Angel. But I did _not_ just 'let him go'. And that's all I'm going to say on the matter."

Faith's lips pinched together and she folded her arms together tightly across her chest as the two glared at each other. Neither seemed inclined to back down from their combative stance. Then, much to Cordelia's surprise, Faith minutely relaxed, ducked her head in apology and held out her fist. "Sorry, X, it's just..."

Xander also relaxed and reached out to tap fists with Faith. "I get it. He means a lot to you." He glanced at Cordelia, "both of you. All of us. We'll find him."

"I fear we must. For some..." Giles looked constipated, "inexplicable reason he appears to be the instrument of our salvation in this crisis."

"We'll find him," insisted Xander, with more confidence than he actually felt.

"How?" asked Tarian, standing with the other slayers, acting as unofficial spokesperson for them.

Giles took the lead in answering, working his way through the arguments in his head as he spoke. "If this...Envoy is to be believed, then we need both the Pevasor Adnihilo _and_ Angel." Giles' expression went sour again as he mentioned Angel's name. Though he had made a peace of sorts after the Angelus affair, he did not like being in the position of needing Angel for anything. "It's not unreasonable to assume our enemies know that as well. They have Angel. We must assume they will be after the Pevasor Adnihilo as well."

"So what do we go after first, Angel or this demon killer thing?" impatiently demanded Tarian. Zelinda laid a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

Cordelia wondered, "Could they be together?"

"That would make it easy," commented Xander.

Giles' reply was sharp. "It would also be quite bad! Having them both would give our adversaries the advantage all around."

"Hey!" Faith interrupted. "We got us five slayers here. Six, if you count me twice, 'cause I'm just that damn good." Faith's Cheshire cat smile disarmed any offense the others might have taken of her claim. And it was infectious as well, causing all the slayers to begin smiling in a dangerous and feral way, showing their willingness to take on anything.

Giles considered Faith for a few moments then he nodded his head. "We start with what we know. The translations and research we've done so far have turned up nothing about this artifact Envoy mentioned, or even this place, so I don't think there are any useful clues there. What have we learned so far that's new?"

"He said 'follow your guide'," Xander quoted absently, closing his eye as he tried to remember all Envoy had told them. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? A guide knows where he's going, right? They've been there before, right? Any of you been around these parts?" Xander looked at everyone in turn to see if they had an answer.

Cordelia thought about it and couldn't get any further as Giles and Xander, with Faith and Zelinda occasionally tossing in ideas, batted some notions back and forth, but not really getting anywhere productive. Eventually throwing up her arms in frustration, she stalked off. She needed to put some space between herself and the bickering.

Just as she decided she was far enough away, far enough where the voices could still be heard yet were reduced to an unintelligible drone, Cordelia developed a sudden and extremely painful headache. Though not as bad as the visions used to be, it was still shocking in its intensity and onset, causing her to cry out and stumble as she clutched her hands to her head.

Far quicker than Cordelia would have thought possible Xander was by her side, surrounded by the others. He was sitting down, cradling her head as they looked on with worried faces. She decided she must have actually passed out, which would explain their attitudes and how fast they seemed to have gotten there.

When Giles saw her stir he immediately began peppering her with questions, demanding to know if she had gotten a vision. Tarian shushed him for being so inconsiderate and knelt down beside her as Cordelia struggled to sit up. Tarian offered her a canteen of water, which Cordelia gratefully took and washed the stale taste from her mouth.

Cordelia saw Giles waiting in frustration and she almost laughed but for the pain. Instead she made a small hand gesture to let him know she was now ready to answer his questions.

"What was it? Was it a vision? Are you all right, m'dear?"

"No. It's a headache, just a headache," Cordelia protested. "And, I'll be fine. Help get me up." Xander wordlessly lifted her to her feet. She continued to press her hand to her head in an effort to push back the pain. With Xander on one side and Tarian on the other, they led her back to the rough and temporary encampment they had created.

After taking a few steps back Cordelia uncurled to her full height. "Hey, it's gone!" she exclaimed.

"Just like that?" asked Xander.

"Yeah, gone like it came."

"Not even a little?" Xander was dubious.

"You suddenly don't understand English, Xander? When I say gone, I mean gone. No pain, no nothing. Just like..." She attempted to snap her fingers but couldn't and she scowled. "Well, just like that."

Giles frowned. "That's highly unusual, Cordelia. Could--"

"I don't care what you think. I'm just happy." When Cordelia attempted to continue back Giles stepped in her way. "Hey!"

Giles had a speculative look about him. "I'm sorry, Cordelia," he said placatingly, but neither moving out of her way, "but, would you mind walking back in that direction?" He pointed back they way they came.

"Why? Trying to get rid of me?" she joked.

"Please," he gently asked, "do an old man a simple favor."

Cordelia gave Giles a measuring look before reaching some conclusion. She turned about and retraced her steps with the entire entourage in tow. Looking back over her shoulder she saw everyone following her, like they were ready to catch her at the slightest falter, or jump at her every command. She smiled. "A girl could get used to--"

She stumbled again, raising her hand to her head. This time Xander really was closest and most ready, and he caught her easily, arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her back upright before releasing her. He kept a hand on her waist as he led her back.

"Now it's gone again!"

Giles nodded his head. "And now, if you please, in that direction." He pointed off at ninety degrees from the direction she had first taken. She looked at Giles curiously, and then warily eyed the direction he indicated. She squared her shoulders, brushed Xander's arm away, and started off, but more cautiously than before, Xander at her side.

She stopped after a few steps.

"How do you feel?" asked Giles.

"It's a little achy, but nothing like before." Understanding dawned on her. "You don't think..."

Giles took off his glasses to polish them. "Yes, I do think. Let's test this a bit further. Could you walk in a large circle?" Giles circled his hand about to indicate how he meant.

Cordelia did so, somewhat tentatively, circling the group clustered together in the middle. Along certain portions they noticed her wince but she did not cry out. She finally stopped by the group, who had been watching her silently. "Whenever I go in this direction I feel OK. Any other direction feels bad, feels...wrong." She faced the good direction and pointed. "This, this is the way to go. It's just this feeling I get."

"When you look to the west?" Xander asked, staring off into the distance of the direction she was facing and pointing. Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him.

Fuming, Tarian finally spoke up, demanding, "What's going on?"

Faith looked askance at her junior. "You don't get it?"

"No!"

"Whenever Cordelia heads in this direction she feels no pain or ache," Giles elaborated for Tarian, and everyone in general. "Perhaps it's remnants of the vision power you once had, or some latent ability which allowed you to have them in the first place. Whatever it is, the upshot is this. I believe Cordelia is meant to be our guide. And this is the direction we're supposed to be going. When we go off track she will feel it and we can determine again which way to go."

"You mean this is like some giant game of 'hot or cold'?"

Giles frowned at Xander's question. "Err...Yes, yes, it seems to be basically just that. Perhaps being here activated her ability, or she has some affinity for the object we seek. Either way, she is our guide." Giles seemed quite certain of himself.

"You're just guessing the direction she feels good is the direction we really want," stated Xander. "Suppose it's really leading us to a trap?"

"Er...I suppose that's possible too. Do you have another suggestion?"

Xander pursed his lips and stared at Giles with a squinted eye, then looked around at the others staring at him. "OK, let's go."

"What about the vampire, Angel?" wondered Carole.

"One thing at a time."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	8. We'd Like You To Keep Your Promise

**Summary:** The group nears their goal.

**Spoilers:** Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA  
**Rating:** Minor language, violence  
**Acknowledgment:** My thanks to Theo for his input, ideas, and beta reading.

* * *

**Part 6b: We'd Like You to Keep Your Promise**

When Angel finally came to, he found himself tightly shackled to a vertical rock slab at one end of a small, windowless room. A horizontal sliver of grimy dim light was visible on the floor opposite him and provided the only source of illumination. Angel correctly guessed that would be where the door was.

As he assessed his new surroundings Angel's vampire vision quickly became accustomed to the level of light a human would find too dark to see anything at all. The room was rectangular, maybe ten feet wide by twenty long, the slab he was on at one end, facing the door. Except for the door, the entire room, a cell really, was completely made of huge stones fitted tightly together. Although cooler, the air was as dry and ashy as it had been during his trek with Xander. Oddly, whenever Angel made a noise there was no echo as he would have expected, as if the stone itself sucked up the sound.

Angel next tried to move and test his bindings. His ankles, wrists and torso were firmly bound with soft yet unyielding straps and he could barely move anything at all except his head. Concentrating, Angel put everything into a supreme effort to break free, flexing first one way and then another but there was absolutely no give at any point. Whoever it was who put him here, they knew their business. In a sudden helpless fury he struggling wildly for several more minutes with no further hint of success.

With his anger--and a good deal of remaining energy--spent, he gave a heartfelt sigh and let his head roll back against the dry, cool rock. There was nothing to do but wait for events to unfold.

Angel didn't know how long he had waited, and thought he might have even drifted off into unconsciousness, before his eyes opened upon hearing muffled voices on the other side of the door. After the loud clatter of a view slit being opened, the door swung smoothly aside to reveal the back-lit profiles of several human-like forms. He sniffed and realized one of them, the smaller one in the middle and forward of the others, was in fact a human.

Three captors slowly and confidently advanced into the cell, with several more behind holding flickering, sputtering torches. Angel's nose wrinkled at the stench of the spitting flames. He waited silently as the human among them let his eyes rove over Angel's imprisoned form, casually inspecting, nodding in satisfaction.

"Who are you?" Angel finally asked.

The human continued to quietly regard Angel for a long time before answering in a deep rumbling voice, a voice somewhat at odds to his slight build. "I am your captor. You are my prisoner."

Despite knowing it was pointless, Angel let his muscles flow into an outwardly relaxed appearance and gathered all his strength for one more lunge. At the very least he wanted to establish some measure of control in this situation, show he wasn't intimidated.

As before, his bindings held fast. The human who had addressed him didn't flinch or even raise an eyebrow, smirking confidently as Angel struggled and roared. He stepped around Angel, minutely inspecting him, totally confident in Angel's inability to do anything. When Angel finally gave up struggling the human moved to stand directly before Angel, casually picking at his nails while speaking. "Are you quite done yet?"

Angel, slumped with exhaustion, tipped his head.

"Good."

It really bugged Angel how self-satisfied this person was.

"I am the J'ochemla-Ach!adari, leader of the Cult of Anfal, faithful servants and those who prepare the way for the true rulers of the universe, the Old Ones." Angel's captor seemed to be genuinely amused. "You, Angel, may call me Tim."

Angel groaned. He swore to himself if, heaven forbid this entire Angel-gets-to-be-the-Keeper hoopla backfired and he instead turned back into Angelus again, he would eat only Monty Python fans until none were left on the face of the earth. He smiled thinly as he thought that might actually be a more quick and certain way to redeem himself than whatever stunt Envoy had in mind.

Tim continued speaking. "You seek the Pevasor Adnihilo. We have it." He waved to his demon vanguard who socketed their torches into wall brackets and quickly left. Moments later another human pushed what looked like a tall, wheeled coat-rack before him, upon which was draped a large, crudely made cloth shroud. He left it to one side of Tim and backed out, leaving only Tim in the cell with Angel. "Just to satisfy my own curiosity, Angel, what do you know of this? Why do you want it when it means your very death?"

For a moment Angel considered not saying anything, but he needed more information, more time, and the best way was to keep this human talking. "Envoy said there was a way for me to become the new Keeper of The Deeper Well. That thing is necessary for that to happen. He didn't explain how."

"You? The new Keeper? Interesting." Tim walked over to the rack and gazed lovingly at the shroud draped upon it. "Almost anything of worth," he began in a sing-song tone, circling around the rack, holding his hand out to the Pevasor Adnihilo but not quite touching it, "such as this, has more than a single purpose." Tim returned to his previous place before Angel while he talked.

Angel suspected Tim, like an anxious little boy, had been practicing this little victory speech for just this very moment.

"The more important a thing is--whether be person, object, or even a concept, idea or effect of magic--the more opposed those purposes are." Tim flipped-flopped his hand back and forth to illustrate. "A Yin-yang thing, if you will."

---

After many back and forths, dead-end canyons, false trails and more up and down hiking than Xander ever wanted to see again, the group eventually emerged through the mouth of a narrow canyon and onto the edge of a wide, flat plain, almost completely enclosed by tall mesas. The plain was dominated by a central, immense column of rock but otherwise virtually featureless.

Although Xander figured that impressive pile of stone was plenty tall, it was more squat than towering. It looked as if it were extruded from the depths below, pushed out by the forces of hell itself, it's sides shredded into surrounding rubble as it rose. Atop the column appeared to be a primitive fortress, gouged and carved into the rock rather than being built upon it. It was hard to tell the scale, but as tiny as it now looked against its foundation, Xander suspected the fortress was in fact quite huge.

Though she was not certain as they approached, Cordelia's sense was that whatever they were looking for would be there. This was proved as they circled around it, only for Cordelia to say they had passed their destination. Another circling confirmed it. "Whatever it is we're looking for, it's in there." Though she made her conclusion with confidence she nonetheless seemed unhappy about it.

"I was looking pretty closely, but I didn't notice anyway in. No stairs or ladders or pathway, not even a draw-bridge or anything," observed Xander. "Are you sure?"

"Yup."

"There must be some way, though it's probably well hidden. I suggest we split into teams and scour around to look," offered Giles.

"Sounds good, but we're all tired, and I for one am hungry, so let's take a break first," said Xander.

They were all tired and hungry. At their next stop they finished the last of their rations and half the rest of their water.

---

"Buffy! Buffy!"

Willow waved and jumped to get Buffy's attention as she cleared airport security. They rushed together into a warm embrace of two old and dear friends who had been apart for too long. After the initial hugs and effusive, bubbling, babbling words of greeting, Willow offered to take Buffy's carry-on.

"Honestly, Will," Buffy protested, "Of the two of us, which one is slayer powered?" Willow gave in easily.

Buffy interrogated Willow on the latest developments as they made their way through Heathrow and out to the car Willow had hired. "Has there been anymore newsy-news, any more calls?"

Willow chewed on her lip before answering. "Well, when he called me, this Lorne suggested a very curious errand." Buffy quirked her eyebrow to ask the question. Willow shook her head. "It's better if I show you," she answered evasively, "but otherwise there's really nothing you don't already know. No new hints," she groused. "You and I are the only people he called, and nobody has been able to track him down. I've done my darndest, the coven has tried, but zippity-zip doo-dah," Willow threw up her arms in frustration, "he's mystically invisible, doesn't exist."

Willow frowned in a very disapproving way. "And those two old poopheads, Roger and Royce, say it's all just a wild goose-chase anyway. Without more solid evidence they want the search called off and they're beginning to convince others and it's getting to be just you and me and Robin." Willow ran out of breath.

Buffy was equally annoyed with the Council. It wasn't until Giles had disappeared that she appreciated how much he really did--in a supposedly figure-head position--to hold everything together. He had always kept her in the loop with the most important information, yet shielded her from the worst of the petty trivialities and internal politics.

As the months had passed without any progress finding their lost friends, she and Robin were having more trouble convincing everyone to stay focused. Buffy admitted to herself, even she was having more and more thoughts they might be really gone for good, that maybe it was time to find some closure as had been suggested increasingly often.

Then had come the mysterious calls from Lorne, first to her, then to Willow. Buffy could see how she herself could be easily found, almost everyone knew The Slayer was in Rome. But how had anyone known who Willow was, or even where she was staying in Stow-on-the-Wold, having never left after arriving only one day after Xander and the others had disappeared?

"No, they're wrong, this goose needs to be chased! Is there anything new at the woods? Anything at all?" Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head. "The only lead we have is the directions he gave you. Oh Buffy, it's a holiday that's not!" Willow was nearly wailing and Buffy reached to take her hand and give it an encouraging squeeze. It took a lot of effort to put some measure of confidence into the gesture.

They arrived at Willow's car and she popped open the trunk. "This is the errand I mentioned." Willow waved at the contents filling the space.

Buffy leaned over to peer inside. "Willow! Are you starting your own ski team?"

Willow sighed and shrugged. "'Bring lots of overcoats,' he said. No explanation."

"Do you think...?"

"I don't know, Buff. I just don't know anymore." Willow sighed again as she stared sadly at the pile of coats and jackets in her car. She held out her hand. "Can I see the directions?"

Buffy handed them over without a word and they both clambered into the car. Willow quickly read through the list of turns and roadways and became agitated. She read them again and calmed herself, but her breathing was deep. "This is...this..."

"What, what? This is this what?" demanded Buffy.

Willow smiled for the first time in a long time. "This is very interesting."

---

Tim signaled to someone, or something, outside the door, and Angel heard the distant scuffling of humans and demons scurrying about. Tim looked sharply at Angel. "What do you know of astrophysics, Angel? Specifically, anti-matter?"

Angel did a confused double-take at the sudden change in topic. Did Tim now wish to discuss the stars or the Big-Bang theory? Or was this just some kind of hitherto unheard of interrogation tactic?

Tim smiled upon seeing the confusion flitting across Angel's face. "Let me make this simpler. Do you know what happens when matter and anti-matter are brought together? No? It's quite simple. They totally and utterly annihilate each other. There is nothing left, nothing at all. What you do get--oh, it is so exquisite in its purity!--is the most beautiful release! Everything is turned into an explosion of pure energy in less than a micro-second! Think of the possibilities if it could only harnessed." Tim's smile was wickedly feral.

"You and Xander would get along just great," grumbled Angel.

"Xander? Is he the boy you were with? He and all your friends are of no consequence. They are outside this very keep even as we speak. They might even be able to rescue you. It will be interesting to watch them try."

"The physics?"

"Ah, yes. The beautiful annihilation of everything but the energy. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"You want to blow up everything. Very original."

"Not quite." Tim seemed very disappointed in Angel. "There must be a dominion for the Old Ones to rule, so that would be rather pointless, wouldn't it? Think!" commanded Tim.

"Their time has passed," declared Angel, "even Illyria admits that now." Angel didn't think the little white lie would come back to haunt him.

Tim snorted. "That piece of traitorous trash is of no concern. He betrayed his kind. But we are the true followers, and we will return the masters to their rightful place in the Universe."

Angel shook his head.

"The clues are all there, man!" Tim waited. "Nothing? Too bad. Alright then. You believe you are to take part in a ceremony, a rebirth, where you and this," Tim waved at the Pevasor Adnihilo, "would be brought together. With that you would become the new Guardian of The Deeper Well, the Battlebrand in common parlance.

"But didn't I just say everything can have at least two purposes? Including you? We make but a slight change to the ritual, a few indecipherable words here, onyx sand instead of white, a vulture's feather instead of a wren's, and then..."

Despite himself, Angel looked expectantly at Tim. The cult leader stood directly in front of Angel and quickly smacked his palms together in a thunderclap of sound, almost painfully loud to Angel's sensitive hearing.

"Power! A release of such beautiful magical energy of the blackest night, one only we are prepared for. You can not harness this energy, you will only destroyed if you do. You can but deflect it, give it the barest nudge. And we have our target. The Deeper Well itself! The cursed hole in the world, containing all the Old Ones who remain. Before you can blink your eyes--which you won't because of, y'know, not existing anymore--the armies of the Old Ones will be freed from their timeless prison and come pouring out, cascading down on every dimension, taking everything for themselves, destroying every opposition. And when they have consolidated their domain they will take their rightful place as supreme Gods of all you could ever imagine!"

Tim had been getting louder and louder, speaking in a deep and intense fervor as his eyes began to glaze over. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. He slowly returned from the self-induced high of his apocalyptic vision, blinking owlishly at Angel. "Ah, well, yes, that's the plan, anyway."

Angel watched as Tim strode over to the stand in the corner. It seemed to Angel as if he were about to drop to his knees and prey to the thing, but he didn't. Instead he looked back over his shoulder at Angel. "Are you feeling particularly jumpy, Angel? Skin crawling? An itch you can't scratch?"

Angel responded in the negative as Tim returned.

"Hmmm, must be that pesky little soul acting as a buffer." Tim was mildly disappointed and frowned, but his face soon cleared. "Well, never mind. There are a few more things I need to prepare, sacrifice a few hundred virgins, eat a baby or two, that sort of thing. It actually gives me a nasty indigestion, but you know how it is, you've got to keep up the appearances. Well, until we meet again, Angel, please keep a sharp eye on our little prize here."

Tim turned and swept out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a very solid thud.

---

After hours of careful inspection they eventually found what appeared to be a lone, large boulder with scrap marks gouged into the cliff face against which it rested. They quickly surmised it was movable and, for lack of any other alternative, offered their only possibility into the keep.

Faith grinned wolfishly, clapping Carole on the back, "Let's have at it, boys." She hustled the four other slayers together and arrayed them against the stone before taking her own place. "On three. One. Two. Three!!" As one, the slayers let out a groan and gave a mighty push. They were rewarded for their efforts by a muffled scraping sound and a movement of a fraction of an inch. Alternately yelling and groaning, they continued straining against the rock. After several attempts they found they had only moved it two inches.

The slayers fell back, sweat breaking out on their faces, rubbing shoulders or arms that had been pressed up against the stone.

Tarian remained standing, glaring at the obstruction. "Well, it looks to be some real work here." She turned to Xander. "A little extra help would be nice, yeah?" Then she glared at Giles and Cordelia in turn.

"B-b-but I'm a very old man," stammered Giles, still looking fresh as a daisy even after all the recent hiking.

"Hey! I'm the one who got us here," Cordelia responded tartly.

Tarian's smile, as was all the slayers in fact, was thin. "Yes. Been meaning to thank you for that. Yes indeed, yes indeed. Just as soon as we move this big arsed rock, or it has been a rather pointless effort of yours."

But Tarian saved her special glare for Xander. Xander, still sitting, just pointed. "My ankle?" he said weakly.

Tarian huffed in disgust and stomped back to where the slayers were sitting. Faith caught Xander's eye, gave him a small smile and shook her head slightly in a silent message to not let Tarian get to him.

In the meanwhile, Giles had begun closely inspecting the area against which the rock rested, and had climbed up the face to stand above the rock.

Faith noticed and watched him curiously. "Hey, boss, whatcha' lookin' at?" She swiped her hand across her brow to fling off some sweat.

"I, I think we've been going about this all wrong." Giles pointed down near his feet. "If we apply appropriate pressure here, I believe it would be much easier for you to move there."

"Like undoing a latch?" asked Xander. Giles nodded. "Let's go for it." He waved for Cordelia to follow him and gingerly climbed up above to stand with Giles. They talked it over for a few minutes and worked out exactly what they wanted to do.

Cordelia, Xander and Giles sat down, side by side, and placed their feet against the top of the rock. The slayers arrayed themselves once more against the side. "On three," called out Faith again.

This time, with Xander, Cordelia and Giles pushing the top of the rock away from the face, and the slayers pushing sideways again, they were rewarded with an entire foot of movement.

"Anything open up?" called down Giles.

"Nada," answered Carole.

"Keep goin' Again!" And again everyone strained, inching the rock over

Without warning, the rock rolled sideways three feet and began to slowly fall away from the cliff-face. The sudden shift caused Fulani and Tarian to stumble and fall in front it as it swayed over them.

"Look out!" shouted Faith. The fallen slayers began to scramble but they slipped on the sand and pebbles strewn about. Zelinda and Faith, nearest to the fallen two, leaped forward and successfully yanked their friends from out of the path of the tumbling boulder.

It made a booming sound as it fell against the level ledge, and its momentum began to carry it over the lip. A loud cracking was heard from underneath it as its weight pulverized the edge. It flipped over and gathered speed as it rolled and crashed down the slope. Giles winced with every thunderous boom it made but otherwise, like everyone, he stood and watched in stunned fascination as it rolled out into the plain and finally came to a lurching stop.

"Do you think they know we're here?" timidly asked Carole once the last of the rolling thunder echoed away.

"Lucy, I'm home!" Xander called out. He wasn't fast enough to dodge Cordelia's swing. "Ouch! What was that for?!" Xander rubbed furiously at the back of his head.

"Bee," sweetly answered Cordelia.

Tarian laughed out loud while the others, even Giles, smiled discreetly. Xander scowled but let it pass. He carefully scrambled down to join Faith, Zelinda and the other slayers, who were already peering into the darkness of the opening they had just revealed. The gurgling sound of moving water could be heard. Then they stumbled back as one, some holding their noses closed, others furiously waving to get some fresher air.

"Ewww. What is that smell?" demanded Xander.

Giles arrived behind them, carrying a flashlight, and they let him through without warning.

He was heard to cough and gag, and an "Oh, dear Lord," was uttered, but it was several more seconds before Giles reappeared. He took a few great breaths, looking accusingly at Xander. "A warning would have been in good order."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Giles waved him off and announced his findings. "It appears to be a stream of...sludge running underneath us." He glanced back at the cavern, up toward the direction of the keep and back down. "I would judge, from the angle and direction of flow, that it is emanating from our destination."

"Great! We just opened the manhole to a demon sewer."

"Yes," Giles tentatively agreed with Xander, "I do suppose that's one way of putting it."

Cordelia pointed back into the cave. "I think that's our way in."

"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Tarian. Zelinda maintained her ever-stolid appearance, seemingly ready for anything. Fulani, who had experienced far worse, didn't seem bothered in the least. Carole was inclined to agree with Tarian.

"Yes, I can."

Xander nearly gaped. Very much to his surprise she really did seem completely serious. Cordelia and sewers: it didn't compute, the image too bizarre. He had been in a few of them while in Sunnydale, but he couldn't ever remember Cordelia tromping about in one. He and Cordelia had a _lot_ more to talk about than he'd first realized. If they survived this.

"That's how Wes and Gunn escaped from the castle in Pylea: through the sewer," she explained.

"That was getting out, what about getting in?" asked Xander

Cordelia shrugged.

"I think she's right, this is now our most likely way in," said Giles, "But don't you think they would be ready for us?"

Xander laughed. "You mean as opposed to us being the only living, moving things in this incredible wasteland, visible for miles around as we approached? And then we tip over that gi-nourmous rock and it's louder than a Stones concert? No, I think we've got the jump on them, but crawling through this sewer will now definitely give us away."

Giles was chagrined. "Err...Touche, if rudely put."

Faith worked hard to hide a smile. She was going to have to convince Robin to find room in the budget for more of these cross-cultural, team-building trips. Leave aside the sweat and the stink, the danger and exhaustion, and the imminent end of mankind, and she was having herself a real blast with this crew.

Xander threw up his arms. "Sorry, Giles, it's just..." He glanced back at the hole. "I'm hot, I'm tired. My ankle's on fire, and I'd kill for a Twinkie right about now. That stink isn't helping any, either. Seriously, either they know we're here, or they don't. I don't think using the, err...back entrance will make a difference." Xander strode forward into the opening and dropped down the hole. His voice floated up through the darkness. "Tunnels. Did it have to be more tunnels?"

The others quickly entered and gathered around, peering down at the top of Xander's head. Suddenly he screeched. "I'm melting, I'm melting!"

"Xander!" called out Cordelia, setting herself to jump in.

"Don't move, Cordelia! Xander, is it burning? Is it acid?" Giles demanded loudly, getting himself ready.

Xander looked up and laughed. "I was kidding. It just stinks worse than Uncle Rory's breath after a long binge. Come on down."

Seeing that Xander was about to take the lead, Zelinda shouted for him to stop. When he turned around to ask what she wanted she jumped down next to him and quickly passed him by and took the lead. He rolled his eye and sighed but made no argument. Once Zelinda had a notion in mind there was no dissuading her, and that was that.

Soon they all had jumped down, some holding their noses as they did so. Fortunately their senses quickly became deadened to the overpowering smell and it was at least tolerable if they couldn't actually ignore it. Zelinda and Xander led off.

"After you, princess." Faith stepped aside to give Cordelia a free path. Cordelia harrumphed and steadily walked forward, not hesitating in the slightest when her feet splashed into the muck. Faith was mildly impressed and followed right after. The others, one by one, some more reluctantly than others, joined them.

"Are we going in the right direction?" Giles asked Cordelia, who seemed to be as focused inwardly as equally as she was concentrating on stepping on the higher and drier patches.

"Yeah, I think so."

After more time than any would have liked, sloshing and slipping around in the yuck, the naked rock above them turned to cut stone that was dry fitted together. Xander ordered them to turn off their lights and they proceeded much more slowly and quietly. Eventually a large iron grate appeared in the ceiling of their tunnel, with ruddy, flickering rays of torchlight filtering through. It wasn't much but it provided a usable amount of illumination.

Communicating in hand-signals, Xander signaled everyone to be as quiet as possible. They crouched back as Xander beckoned Faith and Zelinda. Again with quick hand-signs he got them to come up to the grate and listen.

"We're good," Faith whispered after several minutes of intense concentration. She and Xander looked to Zelinda.

"Ja, I agree."

Xander nodded. "OK then, I think this is our way in. Ladies, if you would, please do the honors." Zelinda looked confused for a moment but saw how Faith was bracing herself on one side of the tunnel, setting her hands on that end of the grate. She copied the senior slayer, and with a silent nod of the head they began straining against the weight of the iron.

With a soft scraping sound of metal against stone it began to move very slowly. When one side of it cleared the floor they began slipping it sideways, Tarian coming up from the rear to help out. As soon as the opening was wide enough to allow them to squeeze through Xander quietly called, "Good enough!"

"OK, let's go," whispered Faith as she reached up to the opening to hoist herself through. She was startled when Tarian reached out and put her hand on Faith's shoulder.

"I should go first."

"Say what?!" Faith looked hard at Tarian, more perplexed than angry.

"You're the senior, the most valuable we have. If some nasty bugger really is waiting for us up there then I'm the one that's got the experience yet is still expendable."

Faith pursed her lips and considered her sister slayer. She didn't entirely agree with Tarian, but she had to admit the girl had a point. When she looked up Xander he gave her an imperceptible nod.

"OK girl, you get to play hero."

Of all the people in that sewer Cordelia was perhaps the most surprised by Faith's decision. Faith executing restraint, thoughtfulness and perhaps even good judgment? Faith letting someone else go first into imminent and unknown danger? Where did this more mature Faith come from? Cordelia asked herself. Nor had she missed the silent conversation between Xander and the senior slayer, and she wondered how much of Faith's good judgment came from working with Xander. It was soon her turn to be hoisted up and Cordelia had little time to consider once more how all the Scoobies had changed since high-school.

They were in a set of low-ceilinged, dark and narrow corridors in the form of an H, with themselves in the very middle. There were spitting torches, one at each end of the central corridor they were now in. Less smelly and less cramped than the sewer tunnel it was still not much of an improvement and Xander worried that maybe he should have kept the gang in the tunnel while this dungeon was completely searched first by just one or two of them.

Fulani and Carole moved the grate back into place and rejoined the group now huddled near a corner of two of the intersecting corridors. They listened in on a soft-spoken argument on their next move. Cordelia had both her hands pressed up to either side of her head, with her eyes closed. "We're close. Really close. I can feel it."

A decision was quickly reached and the two junior slayers were sent down to search the near corridor, while the rest backed away to search through other parts of the dungeon.

Carole looked nervously at Fulani, whose midnight black skin made her virtually invisible in the dark. Fulani grinned in anticipation, her teeth almost glowing, helping to restore Carole's confidence. It was time for the rookies to step up to the plate and show they deserved the confidence bestowed upon them. They silently slipped around the corner and began quartering through their assigned hallway.

The corridor, with slightly higher ceilings than the first one they were in, had several low-arched doorways branching off of it. Some of the doorways were wide open, revealing the hforbidding pitch-black caves of cells, while others had very solid looking doors blocking them. As they began to pass the third one they heard a soft grunting noise from inside. They immediately tensed, ready for a fight. They peeked through a high opening slit and relaxed. Listening in for several more moments they assured themselves there was only the one occupant of the cell.

Carole gestured to Fulani that she should wait while she went back to get the others.

Fulani, too excited or too impatient, was foolishly unable to wait and slid back the bolts holding the door. She slipped through, falling back against the wall as a sudden feeling of intense unease threatened to overcome her. Her eyes darted about but there were no obvious threats and she fought to overcome her dread, turning to face the captive.

"The cavalry, I presume?" amiably asked Angel.

"Cavalry? What you mean cavalry?" Fulani was confused by Angel's question and her nervousness increased again.

"Well," Angel pointed out reasonably, "you hardly look like Dr. Livingston."

Fulani frowned deeply. "Livingston?" This vampire was like no other she had ever met. She sensed the ghosts of evil in him and she pulled out her stake, slowly advancing, prodded by a pervasive unease. But as she drew nearer there was more she could sense from him, something that, now they were alone and she could see how defenseless he was, stayed her stake. And his words, "cavalry", "Livingston"? This was too confusing. She wavered between striking now and fleeing.

Fortunately, before Fulani could do anything silly or dangerous, Carole arrived with the others and the jittery Fulani was relieved to let the others take over.

Xander stopped in front of Angel. "I like this new helpless look of yours, Angel. It goes well with the pallor and suits you very well."

"Suits you even better, I'd wager," Angel replied.

Faith and Cordelia both elbowed past Xander to get at Angel and free him. While they began working on the bindings Angel addressed Giles. "Giles, the Peva-, Peva-, whatever, it's over there." Angel inclined his head in the direction where Tim had left the artifact laying across its stand. Giles turned about to see a large and thread-bare rag draped over the thin iron frame of the stand. He, Xander, and Zelinda slowly approached, none willing to pick it up or even touch it.

Xander cocked his head to one side to examine it from a different angle. He shook his head. "I dunno. It's a little... disappointing? I mean, if this is what's supposed to help Angel save the world, shouldn't it be all big and shiny and important looking?" Xander grinned hugely. "Y'know, like a monster truck?"

"Theme, Xander!" Xander had been ready and easily ducked Cordelia's slap.

From beside Angel, Faith shook her head. In fact all slayers were looking a little dazed, almost comatose, as they stared at it. "There's power there, Xander," she spoke. "I can sense it. We all can. It's..."

"A slayer thing?"

"Maybe. I dunno. But it's kinda like the power in the Scythe we used before. But different. And I get the sense I'm feeling just a small part of it."

Giles turned back to Angel, now free, then back again. "Angel, are _you_ feeling anything?"

Angel came forward and put his hand over it, within inches of touching, then put both hands around it in a cupping motion but still not touching. He moved to pick it up off the stand then stopped. He looked back at Giles, who nodded his head for Angel to continue.

Hesitantly Angel carefully picked up the folds of cloth and held it before him. He looked from Cordelia to Xander and then at all the others arrayed around him and quickly wrapped it over and around his shoulders like a sarape. He shrugged and rolled his shoulders a couple of times to settle it into place.

"You do a good Clint," generously observed Xander.

Angel felt silly.

"Anything?" asked Giles.

Angel shook his head. "It's kind of itchy back here." Angel reached back to scratch his shoulder blade but couldn't reach. "A little help here, please?"

Cordelia stepped up to scratch Angel's back. "You big baby." She smiled indulgently as he wriggled around for her to hit the right spot.

"There's something about a back-scratch that takes a little bit of the super out of the super-hero," commented Xander as they all waited impatiently.

When Cordelia was done Angel closed his eyes, first slipping into a calm and relaxed repose. After several minutes passed with no changes he instead tried intense concentration, his expression almost comically taut.

Angel opened his eyes to see everyone looking on expectantly. "Nope, not feeling a thing."

"Maybe you're really not the one?" wondered Xander.

"I might be OK with that," dryly answered Angel. After the battle in Los Angeles, seeing his noble notion of sacrifice and some kind of victory over evil become rather empty, Angel had turned almost bitter and rather fatalistic about any future that might befall him. It was much the way he had existed for most of the last century before a fateful encounter with Whistler. But recent events began to rekindle a hopefulness within himself. Being with Faith, knowing Cordelia was alive again, seeing how the slayers had such a positive outlook towards all problems they faced--hell, even Xander was almost tolerable now--he was getting back the drive to rejoin the good fight. Angel was wavering if this Keeper idea was really the best way to go about that, if it somehow really meant an end of him, as he remembered Envoy's veiled hint of the demise of his existence.

Faith seemed puzzled. "I don't know what to tell you, Fang, but we're all feelin' it, right?" Faith checked again with the other slayers and they again all nodded.

"Well then, that's settled. We've got Angel, we've got the Annihilator. Let's get with the goods while the getting's good."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to have my robe back."

They all turned toward the source of the deep basso voice, the sound of which rumbled and rolled through the small cell. Behind the intruder stood a large array of demons, many of which Xander couldn't identify. He was impressed. He was also impressed how they managed to get there without anyone hearing a thing. He did berate himself for not setting a watch, though.

For a moment that stretched on and on the two groups stared at each other, virtually motionless except for the blinking and nictating.

"I _told_ you this was too easy!" Cordelia furiously whispered into Xander's ear.

"And I was assured this modest fortress of ours was quite secure." Tim waved his hand to clear the air. "I had no idea there was a sewer running directly under us." He looked back at one of his lieutenants. "See that the usual heads roll for this." One of the humans eagerly dashed off.

"Who're you?" Xander asked.

"Who I am is not important," Tim intoned. "What I am is. I am the leader of the Cult of Anfal, the hand and instrument of the most perfect and most exalted, the rightful masters of all realities."

They all looked at each other in confusion, until Cordelia broke in. "So...you're a flunky?"

"Not by any means." If Tim was perturbed by Cordelia's implied insult he didn't show it in the least.

"He says his name is Tim," Angel said, answering Xander's original question.

"Really?!" Xander looked delighted.

Angel shrugged.

"We're not going to be talking our way out of this one, guys," quietly commented Faith, having carefully surveyed the phalanx of demons arrayed behind Tim.

"Agreed," whispered Angel and Giles simultaneously.

More loudly Giles spoke up, pointing to the cloak still on Angel's shoulders. "But this is the death of demons. How would this do you any good?" he wondered, gesturing at Tim's retinue of demons.

"He's got this thing for astrophysics or something," supplied Angel. "It's the usual sturm und drang. Everything gets destroyed. Cleansing fire. Old Ones take over."

Tim glanced back to either side. "We must clear the way and prepare our reality. We are sworn to achieve that. The corrupted demons, they must be eliminated as well. It will work against a surprising number of humans too."

Xander, remembering some of the people he had come across, was forced to agree. "What exactly are you planning on doing now?"

"Only Tim will tell." Angel had mumbled the reply but Xander, and the slayers, heard it nonetheless.

Faith groaned. "Leave the dumbshit jokes part to X, 'kay?" she scolded. Angel bowed his head but Cordelia could see both he and Xander were grinning.

Tim ignored the exchange, crossed his hands behind his back and began to pace theatrically. "Well, I was thinking I would explain all my nefarious plans to you in over-precise, exquisite detail, then majestically bwahaha my way out the door while I instruct my pet demons to kill you and your friends in the most twisted and arcane way possible, thus leaving you with a window of opportunity to think of some hare-brained yet ingenious last-second trick to foil our dastardly plot. Or we could just kill you right now."

"I like option A," piped up Carole, causing the others to smirk, or even laugh aloud in Faith and Tarian's case.

"I was kidding," Tim replied flatly. That apparently was the signal as over two dozen demons swarmed into the cell and around Tim and descended on the gang. The five slayers immediately fanned out in a protective arc around Xander, Giles, Cordelia and Angel, taking the brunt of the onslaught.

Angel also started forward but was surprised when Giles firmly grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "You're what we're trying to protect!"

The fight quickly turned into a blurred melee of swinging arms, gnashing teeth, kicking legs, slashing blades and cracking bone or armor. The small size of the cell, and the even narrower doorway, prevented the large mass of demons from getting to the slayers all at once and the slayers were able to maintain their protective line, engaging the front ranks of attackers without worrying about being flanked.

Xander yelled at Cordelia to keep Angel out of the fight. He and Giles advanced to form a second echelon behind the slayers. Xander took up a cross-bow and was deadly accurate as he began to pick off some of the demons in the second rank who had not yet been able to engage. When he could he tried to hit any other demon that was attacking his friends. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Giles wielding a sword, slashing and cutting at any appendages that flashed into view.

The small chamber was filled with the grunts and roars of the combatants. The floor soon became slippery with spilled blood and gore. The slayers performed flawlessly, but even they had their limits. Tim seemed to have an endless supply to throw into battle. It seemed whenever one demon was cut down or disintegrated another would take its place, and it wouldn't be much longer before the slayers fell from sheer exhaustion.

The number of demons Tim was able to summon also caused the organization to break down into near chaos, each person or slayer fighting for their lives as they were nearly overwhelmed by the numbers. But eventually the training and co-ordinated close-in support of the slayers re-asserted itself and took its toll. Almost without anyone realizing it, the last demon was suddenly cut down by Xander and Cordelia as they tag-teamed it, one cutting high, the other slashing low.

Everyone whipped their heads about, looking for the next enemy, but there was none. They were the only ones in the room, standing amid stinking, steaming piles of gore.

"Where'd he go? Where's Tim?" shouted Xander. He wasn't in the room and the slayers immediately fanned out into the hallway. Fulani soon came back and reported he couldn't be found. Giles and Angel had been prodding through the heaps of demon bodies and parts but also found no sign of the cult leader.

"He musta shit his pants and taken off near the beginning," declared a triumphant Faith, leading the slayers back. Despite numerous injuries, one or two serious enough to earn the girl a week's stay in the Council House infirmary, all the slayers were grinning.

Xander stood by Angel, picking at the threads on his shoulders. "All that trouble for a ratty old bathrobe,"

Giles gave Xander a disapproving look.

"Don't let it fool you, X," Faith said reprovingly, glancing at all the other slayers, all who were nodding. "Whatever that thing is, it's got power. And I mean a shit-load."

"Now what?" wondered Xander.

Angel answered, "How about, 'there's no place like home'?"

"That is so lame!" said Xander, but he paused and looked around, just like everyone else.

"Wishful thinking," added Cordelia more sympathetically.

"But now we can begin the Tzian x'Chooe," Envoy happily declared from behind them.

As before, everyone jumped at the sound of Envoy's voice. They also started shivering. Without any sense of motion or displacement, one instant they were crowded in a stinking, fetid, overheated cell, the next they were outdoors in a blustery English twilight, the sun just resting on the northwest horizon.

"I really, really hate it when people do that!" complained Xander.

Most seemed startled or even confused by their new location, not even sure of what they were looking at. Xander got a dizzying sense of deja-vu as he looked around and had to steady himself with a hand on the rough stone.

They were in Stonehenge.

---

"It feels like the middle winter!" complained Xander, the native Californian already hugging himself tightly and stamping his feet. Everyone automatically began bunching together in an attempt to keep warm. Xander put his arm around Cordelia when she huddled against him.

"Because, dear sir, it is. To be specific, it is December sixteenth in the calendar you humans most commonly use." Envoy, who seemed completely unperturbed by the icy breeze, swept his arms grandly about. "And pay utmost attention please, we are about to witness something quite rare."

"Angel!" cried out Buffy, stepping from behind one of the giant Trilithons.

Angel spun around. "Buffy?!"

She dashed forward a few steps before noticing the rest of the crowd around him. Her eyes widened. "Cordelia?!"

Cordelia, already used to this sort of reaction, was more stoic in her greeting. "Buffy."

"Cordelia?" Willow squeaked, also emerging from behind the same stone as Buffy.

"Willow?!" cried out Xander.

"Xander!" Buffy and Willow called out together.

"Hey, B., Red." Faith stepped forward out of the crowd and waved.

By this time Buffy and Willow were speechless, whipping their heads back and forth from Angel to Cordelia to Faith to Giles to Cordelia to Xander and around again.

"Am I the only one here with a _normal_ name?" griped Carole.

Everybody turned and stared at the junior slayer.

---

Willow had raced back to the car to bring the cold-weather gear and the parkas and overcoats were quickly distributed to everyone as Envoy began moving people about. The setup for the Tzian x'Chooe was quite simple as Envoy had had virtually everything he needed already prepared, in place, ready to go.

When Xander wondered why Angel hadn't burst into flame when they had first arrived Envoy explained the cloak Angel was wearing would give him temporary protection.

"What if he hadn't had it on when you beamed us up?" Xander asked, blowing on his hands.

"We would have had to do this quite a bit more quickly," Envoy solemnly answered before he hurried off.

How Envoy kept the usual crowds of people away Xander didn't know, but he was glad for it as he watched Envoy direct everyone into position around Angel. The four junior slayers were arrayed at the points of the compass, outside the horseshoe of Trilithons, with their backs up against the Sarsen Stones. He had Cordelia walk off, alone, toward the Heel Stone. Xander could almost swear she stopped at the exact spot where he'd found her just a handful of days ago, but the light was fading fast and he couldn't be sure.

He broke off looking after Cordelia to see Envoy setting Angel into position atop the pale green sandstone of the Altar Stone, surrounded by the ancient and sacred jumble of standing and fallen stonework. Buffy and Faith were set facing him on either side.

Giles, Xander and Willow, as essentially supernumeraries, stood as a group off to the side, with a good view of Angel and one or two of the slayers. Xander noticed Buffy was in rather a daze, perhaps still in a bit of shock from seeing first Angel and then Cordelia--in fact, all the lost people they had been looking for for so long--and then being told this was all to save the world. And, oh yes, Envoy had added, Angel might be human once the show was over. Looking to his side, Xander could tell Willow was also still taking it all in, and he smiled and pulled her into yet again another hug.

It was one of the most unusual sunsets Xander had ever witnessed. As the Sun dipped entirely below the horizon Xander could feel the blackness, rising in the east, covering him like a suffocating blanket. Stars blinked on with a stabbing light in the clear sky and he was forced to look away. He tried to spot Cordelia again but, although he was sure she was still there, she had already become lost in the odd lighting. He briefly returned his attention to Faith, Buffy and Angel, but nothing seemed to be happening yet. Looking back toward Cordelia's position Xander saw the first glimmerings of the moon as it started its ascent above the distant trees.

Unlike before, when the cloak had had no effect whatsoever, Angel--or more accurately, something within Angel--twitched as the moonlight struck him. Angel felt like he wanted to leap out of his own skin. A horrible dread swept through him and he desperately wanted to escape whatever horror the cloak was about to do, to rip it off and throw it from him as far as he could. He needed all his self-control to keep still as the feeling got worse and worse. Angel gritted his teeth, fists balled into mallets. He practically vibrated he was so tense as he tried to keep himself under control.

Sooner than Xander expected the rising moon sat atop the Heel Stone and he could see Cordelia again as a shadowy outline. Xander thought he saw a faint shimmering in the air connecting Angel to the far off Cordelia. He looked back to the center and saw Angel was now lit like a brilliant beacon within an expanding corona, filling out to draw in Buffy and Faith.

And Angel screamed.

Xander tore his eyes from the screaming Angel when he heard the faint echos of Cordelia's own shouts. He went goggle eyed as he saw her perfectly encircled by the full moon, and for a moment he was utterly breathless, stunned by the simple beauty of her black-on-white image against the fullness of the moon.

The screaming continued, and Xander--all the slayers in fact--made to move, to do something, but Envoy had been ready. "Hold!" he said in loud, deep and commanding voice, precisely pitched to a subtlety that reached deep into the animal part of the human mind and paralyzed them, held them fast. Xander agonized as he heard Cordelia's far off keening wail diminish on a heart-rending falling note. He couldn't tell if she was alive or dead or anything in between. He just knew he couldn't move. Not. Yet.

In the meanwhile, Angel's pain, a tearing ripping sensation that began in his extremities, quickly flowed like liquid fire through every nerve in his body. It soared to incredible soul-destroying heights as the icy moonlight beat on him. Initially his muscles had been taut and kept him standing but now they twitched and he collapsed upon the stone and rolled off, writhing and spasming.

As bad as the physical agony was, the mental was worse. He could feel his mind...breaking, cracking, crumbling. Angel was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, that there even was anything outside himself. He heard shouting voices like soft echoing whispers. They meant nothing to him as he thrashed about, kicking and punching the air.

Angel sensed a part of himself literally being pulled out by its roots, fighting with some evil, corrupt force to stay locked within. It clawed and tore at him as it was pulled away. He'd been through hell before, suffered the worst kinds of torture, but he'd never before experienced this grinding down, this tearing apart of self. What little was left of a self-aware and thinking consciousness, a thing that could still be called "Angel", literally felt as if his body, his every fiber, was being shattered like broken crystal, ripped in two, the demon trying to sink its claws into his human self, pulling at every fiber as it was slowly but inexorably wrenched away.

He became somewhat inured to the pain after a time and could begin to think coherently again, wondering as he saw, in his mind, an image of that ravening, blood-thirsty, un-thinking beast being sucked away into he knew not where. With an exhausted gasp the fire suddenly disappeared after a final lightning explosion of agony. Angel rolled over on the damp ground, slumped like oil spreading out on water, every muscle abused, every bone broken. Or so it felt. With the little strength he still possessed he tried to huddle in on himself as the remnants of pain left behind a throbbing ache everywhere.

Everyone was released from their mental hold and surrounded Angel during his thrashing, but they held back from going to him. Even Buffy was too shocked to do anything but stand near and gape. But as Angel's spasms died down in intensity to a mere violent shivering, she knelt down to hold and cradle him, as the others remained in a tight circle about them.

Xander felt Cordelia crash into him from behind, having run up from her position by the Heel Stone. Surprise showed clearly on his face when he saw she seemed perfectly fine. Whatever she went through, Cordelia was apparently unharmed, for which Xander was immensely grateful. Cordelia quickly shushed Xander as he was about to ask how she was and she clutched him tightly while they both watched, morbidly fascinated, as Angel continued to shudder.

Although the pain had entirely disappeared, Angel now felt a desperate sensation surging from deep in his chest, a terrible pulling and sucking from within. It was like nothing he'd felt in the last two hundred years. This was almost scarier than the pain. Angel understood pain, and he now understood what had been happening to the demon within him, what it was, what it meant. But this desperation was unknown. He began to panic as he felt his body pull in on itself, his sternum working in and out like a piston.

Angel suddenly opened his mouth and he sucked in a huge lungful of air. And another. And another. He needed air! He needed it now! Every cell in his body screamed for it, desperately needing oxygen, and the roaring torrents of blood weren't delivering it fast enough. He took another huge gasp. His heart ached with the need to push the blood of his life through his lungs and back into his body. This was nothing like the lost day, years ago in Los Angeles, when he'd been human before. Then, everything just simply...worked, with hardly any pain or conscious thought. One moment a vampire, the next not.

Not now. Now, muscles which hadn't been needed in over 200 years were being called into action. Unused, long-dormant neural pathways where firing electrical signals long forgotten. Breathe. Pump. Breathe. Pump. Angel could think of nothing but sucking in great whooping gulps of air.

As Angel's cells got the oxygen they so desperately needed he felt a new sensation, a heat boiling over from within. He pulled at his clothes in a feeble attempt to get them off, to get rid of the heat. But soon the feeling smoothed out, softened and suffused him as the blood carried this new energy throughout, wrapping him in a blanket of his own warmth.

Angel stared up at Buffy, then at everyone standing motionless around him. He realized no one knew what was going on, it had all happened within seconds, and they were still standing dumbfounded. He tried to speak, to tell them but it only came out as soft croaks and he gave up.

Angel fell over when he tried to stand up, even with Buffy's help and everyone moved in closer. He could feel them near, feel them touching him. He marveled. It was so odd, because usually he could smell or hear humans first. But his ears were roaring like never before and his nose felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Buffy continued to cradle his head and he looked up at her and smiled slightly before overwhelming exhaustion pulled him under. She patted his damp forehead. Startled, she looked up at everyone. "He...he's hot!"

"Yeah, yeah, a big box of saltines. Tell us something we don't know." But Xander's smile took the edge off his comment.

"No! I mean he has body heat. He's warm, like you or me." Buffy put her hand on his neck. "And he has a pulse, I can feel it!" She put her hand in front of his nose. "He's breathing!!"

Giles shouldered through and knelt down to check as well, quickly and professionally examining Angel's body. "Sh-She's right. I think..." Giles fell back on his haunches, almost as shocked as Buffy, and he slowly shook his head. "I think Angel is..." he looked up at everyone to deliver his verdict, "human. I think he's human!" He reached to pick at the coarse weave at the hem of the cloak, rolling the material between his fingers. He suddenly laughed, then stopped himself, grinning like a maniac. "By George, I think it worked!"

Envoy smiled, one that seemed truly warm and genuine. "Yes, I do believe you're right, Mr. Giles."

Giles stood up and squeezed his way back out of the crowd surrounding Angel. "It worked, then? This is how everything was supposed to be? Angel is the new Keeper? The Deeper Well is safe, and the Old Ones are secured away?"

Envoy closed his eyes and flickered for a moment. When he opened them he saw that Xander, arm wrapped tightly around a very sleepy Cordelia, and one of the other slayers had joined Giles, facing him, all waiting for an answer. "The balance is restored, the Well binds its occupants away from all our dimensions. We are safe."

"So that's it then, huh?" asked Xander with a sense of deep relief. "We can all go home now and celebrate." He looked down at the top of Cordelia's head resting on his shoulder. "Or sleep." She mumbled something that sounded like agreement.

Envoy fluttered his hand about. "There are details we must go over with the new Keeper, a few rules of conduct, some limitations he must deal with, the usual boilerplate and fine pri--"

Envoy's eyes widened to saucers. "Oh. That's unexpected."

It coalesced into raw physical existence in a swirling of air and dust and flashing sparks. Silently, within an eye-blink, the man-sized beast formed right between Giles and Xander. Horned, green and leathery, a pure demon of the vampire, it had forced itself back into this reality its will was so consumed with thirst and hunger. It roared a sound powerful enough to freeze the muscle of everyone near. At first it bellowed at nothing, not entirely aware of its place and surrounding, or even of its own existence.

But it know one thing for certain: it was hungry! And food was everywhere.

It slashed.

"Giles!"

* * *

_to be continued..._


	9. No Place

**Summary:** Home is where the heart is  
**Spoilers:** Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA  
**Rating:** Minor language, violence

**Acknowledgment:** First, and most importantly, I'd like to thank Theo. In fact there is not enough thanks I can give him, but this will have to do. This story would quite simply not exist without all his effort: beta-reading, bouncing ideas around, suggestions, enthusiasm, and encouragement.

I kind of had a few ideas about how to continue the story after writing the second part, but really was pretty much floundering around. Until said something in a review a very long time ago. So I'd like to thank ozma914 for inadvertently suggesting the direction for this story and enabling me to complete the journey to the end.

No acknowledgment can be complete without thanking every one of you who has read, and hopefully enjoyed, "Tinman".

* * *

**Part 7: No Place**

Behind him, from the rugged slope leading down to the narrow edge of rocky beach he was standing upon, Xander heard the scuffling, sliding progress of someone carefully working their way down towards him. He'd known the Council would find him eventually; it was only a matter of when. And who. He was mildly curious who his new companion this evening would be and, just for yucks, drew up a short list in his head. He paused, eye closed, to listen, but he didn't quite care enough to turn and actually see who it was.

After several seconds went by without being able to discern their identity he resumed his methodical task, transferring small rocks and stones he'd collected, from one hand to the other, and tossing them into the water one by one. He waited for the splash before tossing the next. Before long the scuffling was replaced by the light crunching of approaching footsteps and the huffing of someone catching their breath. He heard a sniff, possibly disdainful.

"Always the home-boy. I knew I'd find you here."

This time Xander did turn, just briefly, not a little surprised--and pleased--to see it was Cordelia. After a moment's reflection he realized he should have guessed it might be her. He didn't answer right away, pursing his lips and looked thoughtfully at her as he shuffled the stones around in his hand.

She looked good, he thought, real good. A stylish knee-length woolen overcoat kept her warm on this unusually crisp, breezy day, billowing around soft, expensive-looking leather boots. She'd trimmed her long hair to shoulder-length, loose strands blowing about her face. He watched her for another moment as she approached, memorizing this image, before turning away.

"That's me, Homeward Bound-guy, Sunnydale homie," Xander said over his shoulder. With a grunt of effort he threw the next stone far out into the water, beneath which lay the remains of his old home town.

--

Giles felt the crushing blow to his sternum, then an excruciating agony in his neck. The intense double wallops of pain were followed by a numbing paralysis radiating from his neck and branching throughout his body. He tried to push away his attacker but his movements were no more than feeble, ineffectual.

"Giles!" screamed Xander. He shoved the now alert Cordelia behind him and launched himself at the thing attaching itself to Giles' neck. His attempted tackle had about as much effect as trying to knock over a building with a feather. The demon only noticed enough to kick him aside viciously before biting in deeper. Giles hadn't had a chance to shout or make any noise, but now Xander heard a thick gurgling noise from deep in his throat.

As he scrambled back to his feet he was pushed aside as the slayers, having heard his and Cordelia's screams, arrived on the scene. Faith was the first slayer to reach Giles, and with the speed of rage, mindlessly leaped into a flying kick at the vampire's head.

She just bounced off. And although unhurt, the demon dropped his meal to deal with the new annoyance.

Like a thick and heavy blanket slowly being pulled over him, Giles began to succumb to a profound and overwhelming tiredness. His vision contracted to a small blurry gray spot and the sounds of battle raging near him faded into a faraway echo. He knew he should be doing something--anything--to help his slayers and friends, for it was his job to help his comrades in any way he could, virtually his reason for living. But he was just so, so tired. If he could just rest a little while he would help the others in a bit. He promised himself he would.

--

After the battle with The First Evil, the expanding crater swallowing Sunnydale had stopped just short of reaching the coastline, leaving a thin strip of land to dam off the ocean. During the beginning of the following hot summer the crater had remained dry, a giant festering wound; a choking pall of dust, smoke and ash had wafted up from it for weeks.

The destruction had been so massive, so complete, that the only sign anything like a town had once existed here were the approach roads, fences, and power lines, abruptly cut-off by the crumbling edge of the crater. Only a very few of the most outlying neighborhoods had survived the disaster in any form, but they remained abandoned and were already falling apart after looters removed anything of value.

The state had unsuccessfully tried to keep the public out: the mourners, the morbid, and the merely curious. But people cut through or tore down whatever fences and barriers were erected. Thrill seekers even climbed down into the crater, occasionally finding valueless bits and pieces of the town.

It wasn't long before water began to fill in from the ocean as it seeped through the porous and cave-riddled bedrock that had been Sunnydale's foundation. The following winter's rains and storms filled the crater even more, even breaching the dividing strip of land in one or two places. Bowing to the inevitable, the state called in the Army Corps of Engineers to blast open a wider, permanent channel between the ocean and the partially filled crater, allowing the tides to flush out the developing stench, and thus forming the newest bay in California's coastline.

Cold, heavy rains earlier in the day had washed the dust from the air, allowing Xander and Cordelia to easily see the far eastern shore of the nearly perfect circular bay. The shoreline they were standing upon was on a finger of land separating the bay from the ocean behind. North of them, just visible far up to their left, was the strait that formed the entrance to the bay, beyond which another finger of land extended down, completing the circle.

An idea was running around in some circles to turn the entire region into a memorial park. Xander was somehow offended by the notion, but on the other hand had to admit he couldn't think of anything better. A park was probably as good an idea as anything.

It was just the idea of people frolicking about on the grave-site of his hometown, of so many friends and family, it truly turned Xander's stomach.

--

As Xander was regaining his feet, a Buffy-blur streaked past him. Buffy slid in low and aimed for the legs, snapping off a kick at the demon's knee. This exacted the first real damage and caused the demon to howl. With its mobility severely degraded two more slayers, Zelinda and Fulani, were able to attack from either side, soon rejoined by Faith. With the addition of Tarian and Carole, the slayers were able to completely encircle the vampire and attack it from all angles. The demon was literally bounced around like a pinball, every girl darting in for a shot before dodging away from its lightning-quick counter-attacks.

Barely sentient, fueled by the fury of revenge after being encaged by a soul for so long, Angel's inner demon relied on animalistic instincts and reactions honed from thousands of generations of preying on the warm-blooded. The demon attacked everywhere. But it simply wasn't prepared for 'one girl in all the world' to become six. No matter how much it dodged, feinted, slashed, punched or kicked, it couldn't avoid the storm of blows from the slayers.

Realizing it wouldn't last much longer it roared and made a headlong charge at Tarian, seeking to break free. She jumped out of the way, allowing the slayers on either side, Buffy and Fulani, to take advantage of the opening. They each cut it down from the sides, striking with their stakes and knives. The demon roared again in fury as Fulani landed the final, fatal thrust to the heart.

--

Xander smiled crookedly and looked at Cordelia again. "So they sent you to find me, did they? Haul me back?" He extended his arms low, wrists together. "I promise I'll come peacefully, ma'am," he drawled, "Jus' let my horse run free."

"Nobody sent me anywhere. I came here to find you on my own," Cordelia told him.

Xander let his arms fall to his side. "Really?"

"Don't look so self-satisfied, pal. I have my reasons, not all of which have anything to do with wayward dorks. There were things I needed to take care of first. Then I came here. I've been waiting just a couple of days."

"Just you?" Xander shielded his eye as he scanned the crest behind him to see who else had come looking for him. "Where're the others?"

Cordelia's eyes narrowed as she regarded him carefully, fitting pieces together. "You really haven't spoken to them much ever since Sunnydale, have you?" she finally said.

Xander gave up looking and shook his head. He waved at the water. "After this, everyone was moving on again. Except me. I-I know they didn't suffer any less than me, but somehow--I don't know--I just couldn't talk with them anymore. They tried, but, but I couldn't hear what they were saying." Xander snorted in disgust with himself and shook his head. "Africa made it easier." He looked up at Cordelia. "How are they?"

She bobbed her head. "Buffy's handling it pretty well. She and Faith both figured you'd come back when you were ready."

Xander almost hesitated to say the next name that occurred to him. He was ashamed to admit how far apart they'd grown, it really was his own fault. "Willow?" They'd all tried, especially Willow, but he wasn't listening.

Cordelia frowned. "Less well. After we lost you in New York she tried a locator spell to track you down, but you showed up in ten different places at once. And gave her quite the nasty headache."

Xander chuckled darkly. "Yeah, I'm funny like that." He sent a silent salute to a tribal shaman he'd befriended in Kenya, a new watcher for a recently discovered local slayer. The old man had de-"demon-magnetized" him, making it easier to freely roam in the dicier demon-infested regions. It had had the additional side-effect of making him invisible to most forms of magic, witchcraft or sorcery.

--

While the slayers fought the demon, Xander scrambled over to Giles, his head now cradled in Cordelia's lap as she tried to staunch the free flow of blood from the torn flesh in his neck. She was having very little success in her efforts and tears were already streaming down her face.

Xander placed his larger hand over hers and pressed down to help. "Stay with us, Giles! You need to stay with us!" he yelled, grabbing Giles with his other hand, almost crushing the older man's hand in his grip.

Slowly Giles opened his eyes. He looked about for the source of the voice, but his eyes wandered aimlessly as if blind, unable to focus.

"You have to stay with us. We need you! Buffy, Dawn, Faith, all of us. _I_ need you! Dammit, Giles, you promised to show me how to play the guitar. I'm going to hold you to that!" Xander shouted, trying to get Giles to hold on for a while longer.

Giles gave up looking for Xander. "I'm afraid--" He was seized by a violent fit of coughing. When he spoke again his voice had dropped to a soft husk of a whisper. "--not today, s-s-son." Giles smiled weakly and squeezed Xander's hand. Xander barely felt a thing and his own heart went cold.

Giles coughed again, a horrible, hollow rattling sound. "T-tell Buffy," he gasped, "Tell her! I lo--" Giles' hand in Xander's tightened and went limp.

Xander squeezed his eye shut and groaned in despair.

--

Xander raised an eyebrow. "How did you know where to find me? I wasn't even sure I'd come here."

She nodded judiciously. "I know who you are. It really was kind of obvious."

"And the others couldn't figure it out?" He'd only used the Council credit card for the one-way ticket to New York and then a huge cash advance. Afterward he'd avoided anything that might leave a record of his passage.

Cordelia took a slow, careful step forward to stand before Xander, and looked intently up at him, making sure she had his full attention. "I _know_ you, Xander," she repeated. Cordelia laid her hand on his chest, over his heart. "You're not the boy I once knew, but some things haven't changed." She glanced over his shoulder. "You're still looking for home."

Even through the thickness of his jacket her touch was like a firebrand. Xander looked down at the strong yet slender--and of course, perfectly manicured--fingers splayed across his chest. Xander suddenly shivered before he could stop himself, and his breath caught in his throat. He had to will himself to relax and breath again, but he still fidgeted under her disconcertingly direct yet oddly comforting gaze, one that said she understood and accepted who and what he was.

He considered Cordelia's answer and what it might imply about her in relation to himself. All of the woman he'd known and loved had a piece of his soul, a piece of his heart, a piece of _him_. But there had been dreams, secrets deep and personal, that he'd shared with her and no one else - not Buffy, not Anya, not even Willow. At that movement he realized Cordelia might have a bigger part of him than he had ever understood.

--

On a sunny but frigid day they gathered on a low rise behind the Council House, just a gathering of his closest friends and the slayers and watchers currently in residence. Faith and Robin, who had flown over as soon as he learned of his fiance's reappearance, stood together on one side, with Angel a step behind. Across from them Xander was sandwiched between Buffy and Willow, holding them both tightly. Cordelia was behind Xander, with her hand on his shoulder. In a tight circle around them were the other slayers and watchers.

No one knew what religion Giles had subscribed to, if any, so there was no clergy. The will they had discovered in his office made no specification and there was a brief argument about whether he should be buried on his family's estate near Bath, or here in Saxmundham. Since he had virtually no extant family other than Buffy, Willow, Xander and the others in the profession he'd devoted his life to, it was soon decided in favor of the Council House grounds. And the slayers were selfish enough to want him near.

People spoke, in turn, as the will moved them. The speeches were often awkward, halting, and emotionally raw. They spoke of how they knew Giles, his influence on them, both the good and maybe even the bad. They spoke of their appreciation for his wisdom and tolerance and how much his calm introspective manner was already missed. They spoke of his love of the arcane, always seeking the answers to the most intractable problems they ran up against. They spoke of their love for Giles, and how, in several notable cases, he was more family to them than their own blood kin.

But evil never stopped and the Council had to move forward, to return to business as usual. The first major action was to choose the new Head Watcher. What Xander had thought would be a sure-fire, easy and obvious choice quickly deteriorated into nasty arguments and bitter words. Everyone had an opinion and just about nobody agreed with anyone else. Factions stood entrenched. Old-guard versus new, recent slayers vs, the Scoobies, watchers vs. slayers. Some wanted no Head Watcher, some didn't even want a Council at all. They hadn't even come close to deciding how to deal with the new Keeper of the Deeper Well.

Buffy mostly stayed back and just listened to the heated back and forth, but eventually got frustrated with the endless feuding and lack of progress. The chaos made her head ache and, in an effort to move them forward, she tried to impose some kind of reasonable order to the deliberations. She was shouted down and then pointedly ignored, particularly by some of the slayers who had been with her in Sunnydale. It was quite the shock to Buffy and she made ready to leave.

Faith fared little better, the subtlety of Council politics being beyond her blunt, straightforward style. It was a miracle Faith, despite her own frustrations, and Robin were able to convince Buffy to stay.

Half a day passed before anyone noticed Xander was gone.

--

With a subtle shift of weight and stance, Cordelia assumed a more challenging posture, one that let him know she would tolerate no nonsense from him. "Why, Xander? It was hard for everybody, losing Giles. One moment you're there," she snapped her fingers, "the next you're gone, no reason at all."

Xander turned away as he mumbled his answer. "I-I'm sorry, Cordy, I just--I just couldn't take it anymore. I simply couldn't. It was all wrong again, all wrong. We were getting nowhere faster than I can tell a bad pun. And the last person anyone needed to hear from was some tired, one-eyed joker who can't slay and can barely tell a Fyarl demon from a Gna'cklar.

"Y'know, Xander, for 'the one who sees', you're pretty blind. Trust me, for all my seer-ness I've had some real prize moments of blindness too, so I know what I'm talking about." Then Cordelia's lips turned up into a small, secretive smile. "I think you might be surprised what all those people think of you." Her grin grew larger.

"What?" Despite himself, Xander's curiosity was piqued. "You all had a big party after I left?"

Cordelia shook her head coyly. "In a moment." And she let the matter drop. She turned to survey the remnants of Sunnydale. "So this is really it, huh?"

Xander, knowing he wouldn't get Cordelia to speak until she was ready, followed her gaze and nodded.

"Boy, did I hate this piss-ant excuse of a town. Most days back when I was vision-girl for the Powers, I liked to pretend I had never lived anywhere but Los Angeles. But seeing this now," she waved vaguely at the water, "seeing the reality--"

She noticed the skeptical expression he gave her and returned a rueful smile. "Yeah, I know, I know. I always said there could be no better fate for Sunnydale than to do the world a favor and slide it's sorriness into the ocean. And I never did come back. I think that's because I always knew I could if I ever needed to. I think," she inclined her head toward the water, "I think I needed to see this." She shook her head sadly and frowned. "I don't recognize anything."

Xander pointed at the strait separating them from the northern peninsula. "The docks were up there." He pointed to the far north shore. "That rise over there, on the far side, is what's left of Kingman's Bluff, but it's partly crumbled in."

Cordelia had already read through the brochures with their overlay maps and knew all this, but nodded along just the same. Hearing Xander's description, seeing the pain written clearly on his face, hearing the huskiness in Xander's voice, told her more than any sterile words and diagrams could say. So without comment she let Xander point out the old landmarks, her eyes following wherever he indicated.

"You lived there. My parents lived over here. And right there, in the middle, is where Ah--" Xander froze, his arm hanging in the air and pointing to the center of the bay.

Cordelia looked over at Xander curiously. He suddenly seemed so completely lost, and her heart ached for him. She remembered Anya had died at the high school during the battle, and that being here must be a profoundly painful experience for him. Wordlessly Cordy reached and took Xander's hand and held it tightly.

Xander, a little surprised, flashed her a quick, sad smile. With a reflexive shiver, he shook himself out of it and continued more quietly. "Th-that's where the high-school was." Squeezing back, he returned her gesture of sympathy and comfort, letting her know he appreciated the silent show of support. He continued to gaze out across the rippled water. After a few moments he was surprised to find Cordelia was still holding his hand.

The silence was broken only by the soft echos of crashing waves from the ocean behind them and the call of seagulls overhead.

Xander sighed. Time to move on.

He let go of Cordelia's hand and pivoted to face her directly. "Why _are_ you here, Cordy?" he demanded.

"I have a message for you. From the Council."

"For me? What would they have to say to me? Are my dues not paid up? Did they finally come to their senses and vote me off the island?"

"It's about Giles' replacement."

"That's what you've come all this way to tell me?! Who the new boss is?" Xander dug into his pocket. "Y'know, I actually do know how to use this thing." He held up his cell phone.

Cordelia waited impassively.

Xander sighed. "Okay, fine, you win. Who's the luckless bastard they finally picked? Sheesh, it's about time!"

Unexpectedly, Cordelia smiled wickedly, eyes squinting with amusement at the joke only she knew.

"Well?"

Cordelia still said nothing. But her grin kept growing.

It took two more seconds for Xander to get it. "Oh no! No! No way!" He shook his head back and forth. "Me? That's impossible! Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope, sorry. They want you," Cordelia said, almost gleefully. She was clearly amused and enjoying herself, though whether at the very notion of Xander as Head Watcher, or his reaction to the news, he couldn't tell. "When everyone was all shouted out," she continued, "and the fur and dust settled, yours was the one name everyone could agree on--well, except for the senile skeletons, but nobody's listening to them anymore, so we just shoved them in a nearby closet."

Xander was shell-shocked and gob-smacked. His mouth flopped open but he made no sound. When he was finally able to round up enough working brain cells to say something coherent without also falling down, he said, "What the--?" He stopped to gather himself again, taking a big swallow. "Did everyone suddenly get sucked into the "Let's All Do Something Really Stupid" dimension? Suffering Hector, _why_?! Why would they pick me?! Who thought up that lameness? At least I'll know which brain-trust to kick in the ass."

"It was Faith, so you might want to be careful about that kick. And Teri seconded."

"Teri?! B-b-but--" Xander was speechless again.

Cordelia nodded. "Um hmm. It was really kind of interesting. Once your name was mentioned everyone just got kind of quiet. And then all hell broke loose. The African bloc was particularly vocal." Her air of detached amusement disappeared suddenly, replaced by a more sober and intent expression. "Listen, Xander, as unfathomable as it may seem to you, people--very good people--think you also are pretty damn good. I'm strangely compelled to agree." Cordelia's smile returned briefly before her expression turned deadly serious again. "They want you, Xander. Buffy, Willow, everyone. They want you back. As Head Watcher."

"But Buffy, shouldn't she--?" Xander began the mouth flopping thing again.

"You'd think. But no." Cordelia began to pace slowly in front of him as she explained the situation. "My friend, one minor, teensy little detail you never mentioned about our brave new world all awash in super-chicks, is that not all the new slayers like what's happened to them. Not a lot everyone is happy with Buffy. Being a slayer, even with all the help you guys give, is still the suck job, with more than its fair share of downsides. A lot of those girls blame Buffy for turning them into targets for vamps and demons without their knowledge or consent. Just like they do Willow."

"But if we hadn't--!"

Cordelia's raised hand stopped Xander's protest. "I know, Xander, believe me I know," she began patiently. "It had to be done. I get that. Maybe if you had more time, or more...something--I don't know--you might have come up with a better plan. Or not. The heroes always get to make the tough choices. Been there, done that, got demon goo on the Guccis to prove it.

"But it's over and done with. You made the best choice you could at the time, with the information you had. And you can wrap up all the best logic and rationale and till-you're-blue-in-the-face explanation in a pretty package, tie it with a bow on top, and it _still_ won't change anything for some of the girls. Something to do with all your worst nightmares coming true and trying to kill you twenty-four seven, every day of the year. Huh, go figure."

Cordelia tossed her head to get some stray hair out of the way. "They'll do what they need to, but they don't have to like it or how it happened. And they don't want Buffy in charge. Or Willow either."

Xander noted Cordelia took no pleasure, nor gloated, in her conclusion. It was merely a statement of the facts.

"Faith? Robin?" Xander asked, more weakly.

She shook her head, causing the wind to catch her hair again in a wave all about her face. "She said no." Cordelia smiled. "Well, actually she said it with a lot more of the off-colorfully. She said she's just a grunt and her place is on the front lines. Besides, they like it right where they are, in Cleveland," Cordelia shuddered theatrically. "Honestly, I think, in the end, Buffy was relieved."

Xander rolled his shoulders as he considered everything Cordelia had just dumped on him, still shocked even as it started to settle in.

"Do you want my opinion?" Cordelia asked gently.

Xander couldn't keep a small grin off his face. "Will it hurt?"

"Of course it will." Then Cordelia delivered Xander his second shock in as many minutes. "I think they made a good choice."

Xander's eye widened in surprised. "B-bwuh--" he finally managed to say.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it." Although Cordelia seemed to be deadly serious she was also clearly enjoying the effect she was having on Xander.

Xander suddenly felt very tired, and he had the overwhelming desire to sit and ponder this for, oh, the next ten years. Instead he answered, "I'm going to have to think about it."

"Okay." Cordelia seemed to accept Xander's answer at face value and didn't press any further. She knew he would accept.

"Wow. Damn. Wow," were Xander's last words on the matter.

They looked at each other. Xander was the first to look away, kicking at the ground with his toe, while Cordelia stretched and began to stroll about in a slow, lazy circle, getting a better view of the surroundings.

"How was L.A.?" Xander asked when she had drawn near again.

She shuddered involuntarily. "I didn't drive up from there." There were still far too many bad memories associated with the bright city for her and, much like Xander with Sunnydale, she suspected it would take a long time before she would be willing and able to face it again with any degree of detached equanimity. "I came down from San Francisco."

"San Francisco?!"

"Lia-Angel wanted me to look in on, um, someone."

Cordelia closed her eyes momentarily. She'd only done it because Angel had nearly begged her. The recollection of her earlier time with Connor, as Jasmine's psyche began to assert greater control over her, had fortunately taken on a detached sensation, like the memory of a memory, but she still hadn't looked forward to meeting him again. Connor too had been hesitant to meet an almost familiar stranger with an exotic name who had played the central role in some of his most intensely erotic dreams. He'd cited his heavy load of coursework, only agreeing when his father's name was mentioned.

She'd been jumpy and felt terribly awkward when they sat down to share some bad pizza on campus. She could tell that Connor was equally as anxious and somehow that calmed her. They quickly settled down after some easy small talk about how he was enjoying Stanford, the classes he was taking, and all the people he was meeting. She was extremely pleased he was no longer the hate-filled needy teenager, and in fact was quite likable, although she still firmly believed these ends didn't justify Angel's means.

They'd discussed his father before parting, and Cordelia left him contact information--a forwarding address care of the Watchers Council--if Connor ever wanted to speak directly to him. After parting, Cordelia was glad she could tell Angel that his son was very much a cheerful adult now, doing well, and enjoying college life. How Angel was going to tell Buffy about him though was not going to be any of her business.

Xander stared at Cordelia, waiting for her to elaborate. But she just shrugged and looked away, refusing to answer the implied question.

He sighed, frustrated. "Speaking of our resident newly ex-undead--or is that _un_-undead? Is he all nicely squared away? Showing up to work on time? Not shirking his responsibilities? He hasn't lost the keys to The Well, has he?" Despite himself, and despite knowing Cordelia's feelings toward Angel, Xander wasn't able to keep out all traces of the old bitterness and resentment toward Angel.

"Whatever you think of him, Xander, he's a good person. And he's always going to be my friend."

Xander could _feel_ Cordelia's disapproval of his childishness towards Angel.

Cordelia eased up on the glare. "You and he are more alike than you know."

He couldn't help a short, sharp bark of laughter, cut off when he saw her annoyed, closed-in expression return. "Oh, you were being serious?"

"He wants to do the right thing, and he tries harder than just about anyone I've ever known. And yeah, he's made some mistakes, some real whoppers, hurt people he's closest to." She arched her eyebrow. "Hear any bells a-ringing, Xander?"

Xander winced and tried to turn away. But Cordelia reached to hold his chin in her hand, stopping him, and made eye contact. Only when she was sure he understood he'd been forgiven, and that in turn he should think about forgiveness himself, did she let go. Then she smiled and twirled on her toe. "And you both have the same taste in women."

Xander sighed deeply, shoulders rising and falling, knowing he'd have to get over it all somehow. He would have to soon enough anyway if he and the Council ever hoped to deal with the new Keeper on an amicable basis. More importantly, he'd have to if he ever hoped to maintain his friendship with Cordelia.

But this moment, this moment right now, was just not that time. He needed to hang on to the old and familiar, even if it was the old and familiar rot of bitterness and rivalry. Too many things were changing too fast, and he needed this one last hold on a past he understood, at least for a short while longer. He glanced up to see Cordelia looking at him expectantly, and he knew it would have to be sooner rather than later. Much sooner.

"He's thinking about calling himself Liam now," Cordelia informed him.

"Liam?" Xander's face screwed up, like he was tasting orange juice over his Lucky Charms. "What kind of a name is that? Why does he want to call himself Liam?

"That was his name before he was turned." Cordelia sent him another disapproving look.

"Oh. But that was hundreds of years ago, why bother now?" Xander was genuinely curious. "What's wrong with 'Angel'? I mean, aside from the obvious."

"He's--" Cordelia looked thoughtful. "He's not sure he's that person anymore. He tried to explain it, that 'Angel' was a demon with Liam's human memories and a soul tacked on--"

"Not damn well enough!"

She ignored Xander's outburst. "--now he's all human, body and soul." She shrugged and looked up at Xander. "He just feels he's someone else, not 'Angel'. So he'd like to be called Liam again."

Xander shrugged to indicate a lack of interest one way or the other. Angel. Liam. It didn't really matter, did it? You are what you do, after all. A man is defined by his actions, not by what name he calls himself.

The evening's on-shore breezes continued to roll down into the protected space they were in, flapping his pony-tail about and causing her hair to blow all around her face. Cordelia tried to brush it back into place, but to no avail. Seeing her struggle momentarily, Xander fished into one of his own pockets and handed her a rubber band. She gave him a curious look. "I always carry around extras." She thanked him and tied her hair back.

Watching the fluidity of her sure and easy movements, Xander's heart ached momentarily. He had to make a mental effort to divert his thoughts. "So what's Buffy think about Ang--Liam?" Old habits died hard.

"Now there's a soap-opera!" Cordelia puffed out an exasperated breath as she applied the finishing adjustments to her hair.

"They haven't, err, well, y'know..." He tapped the knuckles of his closed fists together, then he suddenly looked concerned. "Or have they?" Then Xander realized that soul-lossage wasn't going to be an issue anymore. Old habits really did die hard.

Cordelia screwed up her face in disgust. "Not that I know of, or even care. But there're a whole lotta issues there! Not the least of which was not telling her Spike had come back. And apparently they had been in Rome, spying on her. Buffy's got a slayer-sized pissed-off at him. And he won't stop ragging her for being with the Immortal. It's all really kind of fun to watch, y'know, as long as you're at a distance. At least now we don't have to worry about incompetent gypsy curses and their nasty 'gotchas'."

Xander nodded his acceptance. Whatever Buffy wanted to work out with Angel, or Liam, or whatever the ex-vamp wanted to call himself, was fine with him.

"He asked about you. Ange--Liam." Cordelia too was still finding it difficult to get used to his new name. Xander grunted as he slowly brushed sand off his hands. "He heard you were in construction and stuff," she continued, curious herself. This was something he'd never revealed to her.

Xander looked up at Cordelia before returning his gaze to the bay. He was almost glad to talk about something so mundane. "Yeah, I guess I kind of had a knack for it. Mostly commercial stuff, but some homes too, a few other things." He stopped and sighed. "All in there now," he finished, pointing his chin at the water.

Cordelia frowned. "Yeah, well anyway, when he's not complaining about Buffy and the Immortal, or wanting a new wardrobe, he complains about the cave Envoy showed him. He wants to completely remodel it. So he wants some help. From you."

"From me?" Xander shook his head. Today was just full of surprises.

"You'd think somewhere along the line, in two hundred and fifty years of existence, he'd have learned how to handle a hammer, but no-o-o, he was too good for that. He'd just steal stuff, or force people make things for him before killing them. It was pretty funny seeing him try to use a hammer. Pop! Right on the thumb. He cried like a baby-girl." Cordelia laughed at the memory.

Xander also chuckled, picturing the image. His chortling subsided after a few seconds. "Yeah," he answered, "I can probably help out. We gotta keep the Keeper happy, right?" he said, giving her an ironic smile, before slowly heading up the incline. Cordelia followed behind as he passed and they both climbed the trail.

They stopped at the top, side-by-side, on the beaten path running along the crest, and looked west over the beach and the Pacific. Staring out over the ocean, Xander quietly asked Cordelia, "Did you ever think about quitting? Y'know, when you were with Angel? Just hanging it up and walking away from it all? Let the super-heroes have the field all to themselves?"

Her answer was immediate. "Every damn day. Every time the dry-cleaners couldn't get the yuch out of my newest blouse, or my shoes got ruined from walking around in the sewers, or my head was split open for yet another vision of horrible. And let's not forget all the times I was cornered by some demon and scared to death, or the latest apocalypse threatened to kill everyone. Yeah, you better believe I thought about! But I never did." She paused and peered up at his profile. "Just like you, I never would."

His lips tugged into a quirky lopsided smile. "I think we must be kinda stupid that way."

She returned her own small warm grin. "Yeah, I think we kinda are."

Looking at him again, seeing the rough, hard years in the lines and scars on his face, combined with the vulnerability expressed in his soft smile, Cordelia realized something. She had discovered renewed trust. She could trust him, something that, until just now, she hadn't known she wanted or even needed. Cordelia knew she could place her trust in Xander and be secure in that as never before. The possibilities thus opened before her made her choice easy.

A cold and salty-wet gust cut through the layers of their clothes. She slid sideways next to Xander, closing the gap, her shoulder up against his side, tucking into him. He automatically wrapped his arm around her and gently pulled her tighter. When he realized the familiarity he'd just committed--possibly an unwelcome one--he nearly took his arm away. But Cordelia only looked up at him and smiled and so he left it there.

Together they watched the sun dip into the ocean, the horizon blazing in copper-orange fire. The rusty light of the setting sun slanted in underneath a scalloped layer of cloud bottom, reflecting in salmon-pink. The very atmosphere all around them became luminous in the glow. Like golden diamonds, rays of sunlight sparked off the windows of the few remaining mountain-side houses across the bay. Xander sighed in contentment, reminded how it had been too long since he'd been privileged to see another California sunset such as this. He was right to come, he thought, to touch base with the beginning, to remember where he'd come from before moving on.

As the sun continued to set, and the bright western sky deepened to bands of bronze and dark purples, the gusts died down. Cordelia and Xander stood together, wrapped in a soft cocoon of silence. Cordelia wriggled her shoulders in his arms. "We should go home," she said presently, making her choice known.

"Home?" He looked back over his shoulder at the bay, its inky indigo surface hiding everything below like a giant eraser had been wiped across most of his life. He let his eye close. He wondered. Home? Where was that anymore? Did he even truly have one?

Cordelia glanced sideways up at him. "Yeah, home. A small, cozy flat in a little town in England, one with a funny name. I'm sure you know the place."

There was something else she'd said, something crucial that he couldn't quite place just yet. He opened his eye and gazed down at her for the longest time before he finally figured it out. "We?"

Cordelia flashed him an indulgent smile. "You're pretty good, Mister Head Watcher Xander Harris, with the all grown and competent, but you're going to need help keeping all the boys and girls in line."

"I am?" Xander twisted around to face her, letting his arm slide around and down to her waist "And you're volunteering to help me?"

"Nobody better." Her smile, brilliant even in the fading light, left no room for doubt. She always did have that way of knowing what he needed.

Xander let his gaze travel over her face shining in the last remaining light, seeing determination, strength and drive reflected in her eyes. And something else. Slowly he returned her infectious grin as he brought his other arm around to hold her close. "No, I don't think there is," he whispered.

Their eyes met and time stopped. Only for the briefest of moments, it was a quiet and calm corner of time and space all their own, where an unspoken agreement, an understanding of compassion, affection, and trust passed between them. A wonderfully warm shiver swept through him, radiating from his suddenly racing heart, an odd juxtaposition of intense desire for this woman and relaxed contentment. With a start Xander let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Catching him by surprise, Cordelia stood up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips. It was unlike any of the kisses they had shared before, all hot and heavy, driven by an insistent, confusing--and all too often scary--passion neither had understood. This time, though an undertone of fiery sensuality was definitely present, it was tempered by a maturity of mutual care and trust, understanding and acceptance, foundations of real love.

Just as Xander was beginning to return Cordelia's kiss more passionately she twisted out of his grasp, grinning impishly. She took his hand and pulled him along. "Come on, Xander, we've got a lot of work to do."

_fin_


End file.
